Sepulchre's church, where, in compliance with an old custom, it halted. Her knees almost sank beneath her as she raised the latch of the front door and looked out. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. "Mercy on us! Well, I thought their manners quite out o' the common. She had but to choose. "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol.
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