"We'll see that, you yelping hounds!" rejoined Jonathan, glaring fiercely at them. You represented to us the immaculate Briton, the one Englishman who typified the Saxonism, if I may coin a word, of our race. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. "I can escape to France.
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