Good-bye, aunt. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. We wore invisible chains and invisible blinkers. Cathy threw Mike a look. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. As soon as he had delivered his instructions to Quilt, who, with Abraham, constituted his body-guard, or janizaries, as he termed them, Jonathan mounted his steed, and rode off at a gallop.
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