“Because I hate you!” She spat. But we're neglecting the punch all this time. Gerald lost his head. Gentlemen! a glass of brandy will be no bad finish to our meal. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. ‘So it would appear. With one or two exceptions, there were no pews; and, as the intercourse with London was then but slight, the seats were occupied almost exclusively by the villagers. Excited by the scene, Jack, however, could pay little attention to the good man's discourse, and was lost in a whirl of tumultuous emotions. "How are you off there, Shoplatch?" inquired Kneebone.
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