"Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. ’ Gerald controlled a quivering lip. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. She had slapped him away with her free hand and the finger was released suddenly, sending her careening to the floor. You can’t go. " "Mine is Howard Spurlock. And with a hideous expression of pain, he fainted. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. " "I have promised. I don’t know anyone. " CHAPTER XIII.
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