" "My God!" cried Trenchard, stunned by the intelligence, "I have killed her. “Damned Rascal!” he said. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. Anna raised her eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. "For the caption!" replied Jackson, coolly drawing a brace of pistols from his pockets. "You!" cried Jack, scornfully.
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