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"Ah! Quilt Arnold, my man, is it you? By the powers! I'm glad to see you. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. The arm about her was steel hard, and she felt the weapon that was placed at her heart, which thumped uncomfortably in her chest.
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