He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. "Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. ‘That I do not yet know. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room.
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