The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. Will you leave us for a few minutes?" "You are not going to be harsh?" "I wish to talk about the future. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold.
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