‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. He drew her away from this thought. The doors were closed and barricaded, and the mob threatened to burst them open if Jack was not delivered to them.
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