The two hostlers, however, kept close at his heels; and Jack, whose strength began to flag, feared he could not hold much longer. "By my shoul!" he exclaimed, smacking his lips, "dat ish goot—very goot. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces.
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