It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. Her voice was weak and flat. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective. " "I don't care for that," replied Jack. "What say you to carrying her off, Captain?" suggested Blueskin.
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