Wood could stand it no longer. "Then, by Heaven! you are a dead man!" replied Jack, cocking a pistol, and pointing it deliberately at his head. You are my wife now and you belong to me. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. Jack then intimated his intention of visiting Winifred's chamber, in which several articles of value were known to be kept; but as, notwithstanding his reckless character, he still retained a feeling of respect for the object of his boyish affections, he would not suffer Blueskin to accompany him, so he commanded him to keep watch over the sleepers—strictly enjoining him, however, to do them no injury. Stood on his dignity and shut us up in great style.
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