"What's that to you?" demanded Jonathan, gruffly. " "Traitor!" cried Sir Rowland—"damned—double-dyed traitor!" "Away with him," vociferated Jonathan to his myrmidons, who, having surrounded Trenchard, hurried him off to the coach before he could utter another word,—"first to Mr. ‘Leonardo again,’ he growled. You cannot refuse me this. . ’ ‘Ah, that is good,’ sighed the lady. ’ ‘You won’t go to the general then?’ ‘There is no need.
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