"Oh God! how fearfully my father is avenged!" "True," replied Jack, sternly; "but we have our uncle to avenge. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. She drank it obediently. "But what does he mean by calling you a wanton? —you, my wife?" Enschede's hand slipped from his daughter's shoulder. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. "More slang," he said. He was well mounted, as was his companion; and had pistols in his holsters, and a hanger at his girdle.
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