"What poet was that?" "Stevenson. " As Jonathan said this, Jack's hand involuntarily sought a pistol. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. “No!” Her thoughts had turned in a new direction. ” Chapter XIV “THIS IS MY WIFE” Anna, notwithstanding her momentary fright in the middle of the day, was in high spirits. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand.
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