"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. ” He digested her statement as part threat and part promise. "Jack is just gone back to the Condemned Hold. And then you go—and half throttle me.
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