"You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. Drink for him had a queer phase. At the precise period of this history, the Jacobite party was full of hope and confidence. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident.
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