What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. It was cramped even at the end of the passage. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. She must be beautiful, but beauty is only the beginning. But her cries, instead of moving her assailant's compassion, only added to his fury.
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