‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. "Zounds!" cried Kneebone, furiously. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. ‘I agree with you. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. Told you how it would be. To receive him here afterwards would be most repugnant to me. ‘Where did you get that, miss?’ ‘It is the sword of monsieur le major. From the first I could see that neither believed my story.
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