Winifred pointed to the door. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. " "You had better write them for me, Mr. "Hush!" said she, in a low, but agitated voice; "would you earn this purse?" "I've no objection," replied Blueskin, in a tone intended to be gentle, but which sounded like the murmuring whine of a playful bear.
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