She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. It is customary even where an agreement is drawn. ‘Left to yourself, my girl, you may not have any affairs. McClintock's heart went out to Spurlock; he would always be the boy's friend, even though he had dragged this girl on to the rocks with him. In truth, she had been quite glad to lose the argument about remaining while the bullet was dug out of Jack’s side. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian, Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to reason! Ah! she stirs. She hissed in a breath and his eyes met hers.
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