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CHAPTER VI. But you must leave us now, dear Winny, Jack and I have something to settle between ourselves. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. The challenge gave her courage.
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