In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. I saw the motor dashed to pieces against the wall, and I saw him pitched on his head into the road.
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