She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave. ’ ‘No, no, go and fetch the men to the house. ‘Well, she’d better learn fast if she wants any truck with me. When he beheld Jack he uttered a deep groan.
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