"Curse you! Where are the bailiffs? Rot you! have you lost your tongue? Devil seize you! you could bawl loud enough a moment ago!" "Silence, Blueskin!" interposed an authoritative voice, immediately behind the ruffian. ‘For my money, you’ll not get much out of old Jarvis either. We can be married tomorrow in Paris. Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears.
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