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I want you to think of me just as if I was a man, and quite outside marriage altogether. "Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. ’ For a moment he looked daunted. They seem to spend their time yawning and inspecting their neighbour’s dresses through those hateful glasses.
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