His grip twisted her wrist. And we men would work for them and serve them in loyal fealty. "Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. "Aha! my lad!" he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; "now I'll show you no quarter. It is not, my dear Veronica, that I think there is any harm in you; there is not.
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