“Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle. "No, I won't hear you, murderer," rejoined Wood. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters.
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