"Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. My heart cannot take it. And if you dare to produce any kind of weapon at all,’ he added, taking a plain brass-barrelled little pistol from his own pocket and levelling it, ‘I will have no compunction in blowing off your head, you madcap female. . At the same time she was wildly exultant at the resolution she had taken, the end she had made to her blunder. He sent me flowers.
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