"Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. For a long time neither spoke again. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. "Stop thief!" roared Jonathan.
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