"Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. " Ruth spread out the ruffled skirt, sundrily torn and soiled. " And he raised his arm with the intention of executing his purpose, when a ball from Jack's pistol passed through the back of his hand, shattering the limb. His hunger satisfied, his spirits began to revive, and with this change of mood all his natural audacity returned. Voices floated down, but there was no sound of pursuit. For just as though a vague likeness is sometimes borne swiftly in upon one, so a vague dissimilarity between the face on the poster and the heroine of his thoughts had slowly crept into his consciousness.
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