“Perhaps for myself I do not mind, but this man is sure to find out some day, and he will not like having been deceived. But, taking the chisel from Blueskin, Jack quickly forced back the bolt. Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. To receive him here afterwards would be most repugnant to me. " "It wouldn't surprise me if he did," remarked Griffin.
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