" So saying, he sprang, with a bound like that of a tiger-cat, against the throat of the woollen-draper. “I meant to say good-bye to you to-night. Still, one never could tell. " Sir Rowland caught at a chair for support, and passed his hand across his brow, on which the damp had gathered thickly. He saw the colossal selfishness of his act; but he could not beg off on the plea of abnormality. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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