Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. "If I am the devil," observed Wild, "as some folks assert, and I myself am not unwilling to believe, you'll find that I differ from the generally-received notions of the arch-fiend, and faithfully execute the commands of those who confide their souls to my custody. He was now within a foot of the bar, and introducing himself into the hole, speedily worked his way to it. K-kimble, sir,’ stammered the lad. Move.
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