McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. Sometimes I take innocent lives. There was something in Jonathan's manner, as he issued this command, that struck the man as singular, and he afterwards recalled it. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose.
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