F. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. “Hello? She’s like, your girlfriend, not mine. He misstated her age and address; but you can’t get home on him for a thing like that. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. . . A furious attack was made on Jonathan, who, though he defended himself like a lion, was desperately wounded, and would inevitably have perished if he had not been protected by the guards, who were obliged to use both swords and fire-arms upon the mob in his defence.
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