His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion) was resolute and stern. She too at once developed an anxious interest in the street outside. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her.
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