207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. You cannot care for her. "May I be cursed," muttered Sheppard, as he slunk away with (as the woollendraper pleasantly observed) 'a couple of boxes in charge,' "if ever I try to be honest again!" "Take a little toasted cheese with the swig, Mr. ‘Odds were against it.
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