What are you after?’ ‘But my pistol and dagger, imbecile,’ she exclaimed impatiently, moving sharply back. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before.
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