’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. "Has Jack displeased you? If so, overlook his fault this once. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. " "By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity. CHAPTER II. And my word's law—with you, at least," she added, bestowing a cutting glance upon her husband.
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