Conceiving the opportunity too favourable to be lost, Jack sprang suddenly over the hedge, and before the man, who was floundering on the ground with one foot in the stirrup, could extricate himself from his embarrassing position, secured his pistols, which he drew from the holsters, and held them to his head. “How I am to earn enough sous for my dinner to-morrow—or failing that, what I can sell. I love you. We are nuns.
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