Raising the bowl in his right hand, Jack glanced towards the balcony, in which the group of ladies were seated, and begged to drink their healths; he then turned to Kneebone and the others, who extended their hands towards him, and raised it to his lips. She shivered, more due to his presence than the changing weather. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. Ramage—about the forty pounds. Kneebone took his leave. I didn't think.
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