The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. It’s your first evening, and early impressions do count for so much. "This is the gentleman," observed Jonathan, introducing Trenchard to the Hollander, "who is about to intrust his young relation to your care. You ought to know that. “I do not even know who you are. "Stop thief!" clamoured the rabble behind. Her voice recalled him. What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically.
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