The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. Deny me, if you please. From this perturbed state he was roused by thoughts of his mother, and fancying he heard her gentle voice urging him on to fresh exertion, he started up. So he made his dispositions and went off on some other fool’s errand. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them. ’ ‘Yes, a pretty theory, Lucy,’ Gerald said evenly, ‘but for one thing.
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