" "Spare him! spare him!" cried Mrs. 1. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. " "Back!" cried Rowland. His literary instincts were reviving. "But, I own, I think it is like. " "Devil!" muttered Jack, again grasping his pistol. But they were too late. "I wish to overtake Lady Trafford.
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