As she came close, he took a pace forward and seized her from behind, one strong arm clamping her tight against his chest, the free hand seizing her about the mouth, stifling the cry that gurgled in her throat. Will you let me go out of this room?” “No,” cried Ramage; “hear me out! I’ll have that satisfaction, anyhow. "No, I shan't," replied Rachel, saucily. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. The fellow is little better than a lunatic.
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