“John, of course I forgive you if it is what you need from me. Spurling, you're a witness to the bet. Lucy's ears were singing. Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. . His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. Should be home soon. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say.
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