“Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. "Is my house to be made a receptacle for all your natural children, Sir? Answer me that. Wood; "and Blueskin, too.
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