His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. "Devil!" cried the widow, catching his arm, and gazing with frantic eagerness in his face, "how many years will you give my son before you execute your terrible threat?" "NINE!" answered Jonathan sternly. ” “You all seem to be trying to pull my leg,” Sir John remarked quietly. " "Can't we break it off?" replied Mrs.
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