" "Spare him! spare him!" cried Mrs. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand.
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