“She’s my wife,” the man muttered. " As familiar as Quilt Arnold himself with every part of Wild's mysterious abode, as well as with the ways of its inmates, Jack, without a moment's hesitation, took up a lamp which was burning in the hall, and led his companion up the great stone stairs. Hours were spent in preparation for the event. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. It was impossible. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast.
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