On the cords being removed, he made a desperate spring at Wild, bore him to the ground, clutched at his throat, and would, infallibly, have strangled him, if the keepers had not all thrown themselves upon him, and by main force torn him off. If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. For a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. Ennison reeled, and almost fell.
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