"Good-b'ye, Jack," said Figg, putting on his hat. Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft. ‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you. Loose the wherry, and stand to your oars—quick—quick!" These commands were promptly obeyed. " "I cannot repent,—I cannot pray," replied Jack, recovering his hardened demeanour. "Thank Heaven!" she gasped.
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