“Now I suppose Brendon understands exactly what you mean,” he remarked. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. "Off with him to Newgate!" cried Jonathan. "Cease your confounded clutter!" said a young man, whose swarthy visage, seen in the torchlight, struck Wood as being that of a Mulatto.
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