But, though the latter was somewhat embarrassed by his burthen, he peremptorily declined Jonathan's offer of assistance. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft. I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. Cathy sighed.
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