"Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. Disillusion stands in one doorway of our house and Mockery in the other. She would compose extremely lucid and honorable explanations.
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