" "I was sure you wouldn't injure me, Captain," remarked Quilt, in a wheedling tone, while he felt about for his sword; "you're far too brave to strike a fallen man. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest. Unless he has killed someone. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears. "I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. This is altogether insupportable. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. ‘And, if this was not enough,’ went on the lady furiously, ‘you dare to say I am French.
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