"I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Many’s the bullets I’ve dug out of fellows in my time. Had he been trying to get her attention before that day, or did he simply want his silly pencil returned? \"I'm John. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. Striking out his foot, he knocked half a dozen teeth down the janizary's throat; and, seconding the kick with a blow on the head from the butt-end of the pistol, stretched him, senseless and bleeding on the ground.
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