Then she put more coal on, piled it over the ashes, and stood once more upright. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. " "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here.
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