While this was passing, Jonathan opened one of the upper windows, and fired several shots upon the assailants. But here’s what is different this time. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. The wedding procession passed on, and the cynical rabble poured in behind. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it.
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