human
Martin, said he below his breath, and tapping the brass butt of a pistol that protruded from the pocket of his coat,
gpt
Nay, here lies Captain Jo!
human
Speak lower, man, he whispered fiercely.
gpt
I ha' given her a sleeping potion out o' the medicine chest Captain Penfeather provided for her; she is not yet cured of her wound, d'ye see, and I would not have her waked yet, so speak lower lest I quiet ye wi' a rap o' the tiller. Let her sleep,--'tis life to her. Saw ye ever a lovelier, sweeter soul?