She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. “I mean to,” she replied. Now then, missie—’ ‘Bon,’ said Melusine, interrupting him without ceremony, and paying no attention to the muskets that were pointing at her from two directions. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault.
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