Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. " "We may believe as much of that as we please, I suppose," observed the carpenter's wife, with a sneer. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. "You forgot your lunch," she said.
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