“I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. But I’m not a slut either, if that’s what you think. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. "Who? Jack!" exclaimed Jonathan. Darell's peculiar bent of mind was exemplified in a rusty broadsword, a tall grenadier's cap, a musket without lock or ramrod, a belt and cartouch-box, with other matters evincing a decided military taste.
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