It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began. "Gad! it's a devilish fine face when lit up. Upon this young fellow's face there were no wrinkles, only shadows, in the hollows of the cheeks and under the eyes. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself.
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