He looked at her, hurt. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. I'll be wanting my sixteen thousand. Have you ever tried to run and jump in petticoats, Mr. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. " "That I will," replied Jack, "in the twinkling of a bedpost. And Doctor Ralph stood by looking considerate.
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