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He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jailfever in consequence. “What were you trying to do?” Lucy asked. Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. " "I'll ring for one," replied Kneebone, rising accordingly; "but I fear my servants are gone to bed. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. ” “Let me tell you the reason you are here. You are much more like what I was then. ‘That’s right, you bone idle do-nothings. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. Humph!" "What's the matter?" "Sh!" Spurlock passed by on the way to the bar.
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