"Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. ” They were eating quails when they returned to the topic of love. While this was going on, Jack suddenly made a movement which attracted the turnkey's attention; and during that interval the old man slipped some articles wrapped in a handkerchief into Bess's hands, who instantly secreted them in her bosom. They were terrible, horrible people.
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