The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. . Wild's dwelling without apprehension, or quitted it without satisfaction. “But I am your husband,” he said.
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