There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. He turned and shouted some orders to the Kanaka crew, then nodded to the sampan's coolies, who bore upon the sweeps and headed for the Sha-mien. "You may die afterwards as soon as you please," retorted Jonathan; "but live till then you shall. Who's the lucky boy, Lucy?\" Lucy looked at her slippered feet.
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