"Aw Come. . ’ ‘But he’s a major of militia, miss. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. It is that, is it not?” “No,” he answered readily. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open.
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