"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. You may command my services at any time. I certainly didn’t mean to kiss you. In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible.
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