‘You ought to be glad someone cares enough about your wretched little neck to try and save it. Rain changed to hail, then 154 sleet, then snow. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. " "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. Sir Rowland Trenchard is aware of your return to England. C. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. ” “I believe you,” she murmured. Certainly I never met him. ’ Grudgingly, the sergeant shifted aside and allowed her access to the stairs, grumbling to her retreating back, ‘If I’d me way, missie, I’d send you back to France where you ought never to have come away from, if you arst me.
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