" Jack could stand no more. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. But in between these wider phases of comparative confidence were gaps of disconcerting doubt, when the universe was presented as making sinister and threatening faces at her, defying her to defy, preparing a humiliating and shameful overthrow. That really settles about that. It was the only time she had ever hit him, punched him right in the stomach like one of his favorite Three Stooges episodes. There was a black fear in his heart. Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. Jonathan's wicked threat is fulfilled at last.
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