Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. “Sir John!” Annabel gasped. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife. "Jack," said the other, sternly; "don't provoke me further, or I'll give you a thrashing.
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