He was placed in a coach, handcuffed, and heavily fettered, and guarded by a vast posse of officers to Temple Bar, where a fresh relay of constables escorted him to Westminster. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. "My invitation did not extend to them. No need to do such things. I’m rather scornful. She is the wife now of another man. Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his.
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