"I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. “I’m not going to kill you, John. With a drawn cutlass in one hand and a cocked pistol in the other, Blueskin rushed up stairs. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. “I’ll run, too,” she volunteered. As they kissed goodbye, she hoped that he felt the same reluctance to part.
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