But when all was over, a sorrowful calm succeeded, and, if not free from grief, she was tranquil. She stared. She ignored his question. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack. Leonardo was to me perhaps like a father, not a lover as you think. ” She said as she rested her head against his chest, eyes unfocused on the fading sky. There was a great splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. "Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. He jumped back, cursing.
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