"Come, let's be off. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. “You see, it comes after all,” she continued, “from certain original convictions which have become my religion. All emotions laid hold of him, but none could he stay long enough to analyze it. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. “We’re in for it. His revelry, however, was put an end at the expiration of the time mentioned by Jonathan, by the entrance of a posse of constables with Quilt Arnold and Abraham Mendez at their head. Wish SHE”—he indicated Miss Klegg’s back with a nod—“was at the bottom of the sea. And they admired Kent sedulously from the windows.
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