"Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. I pledged my thumb that, dead or alive, I'd pay the wager if I lost; and I should like to be as good as my word. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber.
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