He waited. Why should she? she asked rebelliously. Perhaps I am still mad. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. "'Sblood!" exclaimed Jonathan, hastily thrusting the ring into his vest, and taking up a heavy horseman's pistol with which he had felled Blueskin,—"I thought you'd been senseless. ” His voice sounded muffled and heavy, as if he had gone to bed. "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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