Further on, there was a small chandler's shop, where Jack observed an old woman seated at the counter, attended by a little girl. “I don’t want children, Lucy. But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrell, I've no heart for it. “Don’t!” cried Ann Veronica, struggling faintly, and he released her. That's the way it goes. After debating with himself whether he should further seek an interview, which, though, now in his power, was so sedulously shunned by the other party, he decided in the negative; and contenting himself with writing upon a slip of paper the hasty words,—"You are known by the villagers,—be upon your guard,"—he gave it to the ostler, with instructions to deliver it instantly to the owner of the horse he pointed out, and pursued his course. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat.
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