"You don't eat," continued Kneebone, addressing Jack, who had remained for some time thoughtful, and pre-occupied with his head upon his hand. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. I’ll be ready in a moment. The mighty concourse became for a moment still. You cannot draw. As this gentleman was going away, he said to Jack in a jesting manner, 'that he should be glad to see him to-night at supper. ’ ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I think as how you ought to go back to London,’ Jack ventured. I could not keep away any longer.
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