He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. ‘As to Gérard, I do not know why he does this. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. "You didn't spend it?" "I never intended to spend it—any more than I really intended to steal it. “Not at all. “Delicious!” she murmured. "Well?" he whispered. There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged. "Right!—right!" cried Jack, striking his fettered hands against his breast.
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