" "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife. Anna followed her finger, and looked back into her sister’s face. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. "I've done with you. Better come another morning. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. You are the woman I love, Anna.
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