"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. But, urged by his wife's cries, who was more anxious for the preservation of her child's life than her own, he snatched up the infant, and made his escape from the back of the premises. Think better of it. ’ Melusine spread her hands and sighed. "Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat.
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