Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over.
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