"Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack. “I’m going to kill your weakness for you. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. Her eyes flashed and she withdrew the dagger, pulling away from him. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt.
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