“Take off your tunic. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. “Dear John,” she whispered. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. Hugging them, they crept stealthily around the house, Major Alderley leading, and wasting—so his captain acidly commented—a deal of time checking the windows and doors. I'm neither an infidel nor an agnostic, so I'll content myself by saying that the hand of God is in this somewhere. "But, as I was saying, I was most dreadfully frightened on the night of the robbery! Though so young at the time, I remember every circumstance distinctly.
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