"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. The hurricane appeared to have raged in this quarter with tenfold fury. Martha was quite right. Gosse backed, not even attempting to parry so unorthodox a use of the foil. “Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts.
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