"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. “Bless you, sweetheart. “Your affectionate “FATHER. ” “A—marriage certificate!” Annabel gasped. Jack affected to close the door, but left it slightly ajar.
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