Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. "Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again.
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