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A Spaniard, who was one of the principal owners of the Josefa's cargo, happened to be standing beside me in the lookout; at every shot, he would, with a face of the most intense anxiety, while the perspiration hailed off his brow, slap his hands on his thighs, and shrink down on his hams, cowering his head at the same time, as if the shot had been aimed at him, and he was trying to shun it, apostrophizing himself, with an agitated voice, as follows: "Valga me Dios, que demonio, que demonio!
It'll break the boys all up when they hear about it. But you couldn't tell, of course, that Bill was just trying to play with you." Josefa's black eyes burned steadily upon him. Ripley Givens met the test successfully. He stood rumpling the yellow-brown curls on his head pensively. In his eye was regret, not unmingled with a gentle reproach.
A diamond set in a golden circlet sparkled a moment at the tips of the lady's fingers, and then lay hid in the shut fist of the poblana. "Tell him for whom he need not know who sent it. There is money for your expenses, and some to give her; or give it to her mother, if they will accept it." Here a purse fell in Josefa's lap. "Bring me news! oh, bring me news, dear Josefa! Adios! adios!"
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