She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. But what if she were to marry? He glanced towards the elderly dame and found her watching him, the dimple very much in evidence. Loving was better than that.
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