They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. CHAPTER XIV. “Did you—did you really think that they would take you for a Frenchman?” she exclaimed. "I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again. ” She leaned against the back wall of the place, sinking slowly. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. " "And never should again, were he mine," rejoined Jonathan. “How ridiculous! Fancy you with all that money! For heaven’s sake, though, do not go about playing the Don Quixote like this. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it. He, next, seized the unlucky jailer, and forced him along, while Blueskin expedited his movements by administering a few kicks behind. A slow anger burned in the man. " "But what is it?" "An American university.
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