"No, no, Sir," replied Ireton. Her normally shiny hair was 143 stringy and flat. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. "Tom," continued Kneebone, calling to the shop-boy, "don't go home. The Supper at Mr. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood. “I was sick of the make-believe.
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