207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. I am a little afraid. " And, with the uninjured hand he drew a pistol, which he fired, but without effect, at Jack. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. There was none. It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home.
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