Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. "Take her," cried Jonathan; and, flinging the now inanimate body of the poor widow, who had fainted in the struggle, into the arms of Thames, he leapt through the window, and by the time the latter could consign her to Wood, and dart after him, he had disappeared. The true creative mind is always returning to battle; defeats are only temporary setbacks.
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