By a sort of instinct. "Follow me, Thames," cried Jack, dropping into the chasm. "Release her instantly, villain!" Both Winifred and her suitor started at this sudden apparition. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. Why? Because he knew that when these two young people left, the island would become intolerable.
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