Good looks, with a melancholy cast, always drew sentimental females. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. " "Only two minutes more, Sir," intreated Edgeworth Bess, advancing towards him in such a manner as to screen Jack, who crept into the farthest part of the angle,—"only two minutes, and we've done. It's gin—a liquor you used to like.
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