" "You won't complain of the delay when I tell you what I've done," answered Jack. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. It was Annabel who spoke. Hanging about! And they start thinking and asking questions, and begin to be neither one thing nor the other. "I have killed you," cried Jack, endeavouring to staunch the effusion of blood from her breast. —Though if my name should become as famous as theirs, it wouldn't much matter. They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand.
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