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“Julian, I don’t know how to put this. "Did you write it?" "No. But Jack did not heed them. Alban's to-night. They tried to read illustrated papers in an unconcerned manner and with forced attention, lest they should catch the leaping exultation in each other’s eyes. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. Besides, you cannot tell where it will end. But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. " "Ah! you're so very particular," sighed Mrs. Part 8 “Why should I ever come back?” she said to herself, as she went down the staircase. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter.
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