"Come! I see the storm has blown over," cried Winifred, brightening up. Did you warn Frith?’ ‘Yes. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. He looked at her reproachfully. Later, when they returned home, she would serve as the topic of many conversations. He glanced at the ruins of his High Priestess. “If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him.
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