Conceiving the opportunity too favourable to be lost, Jack sprang suddenly over the hedge, and before the man, who was floundering on the ground with one foot in the stirrup, could extricate himself from his embarrassing position, secured his pistols, which he drew from the holsters, and held them to his head. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. ’ Still no response. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air.
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