The militia offered little in the way of relief. Remember that. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. ‘I do not understand you. ‘How she pouted, and tried to make out that she had been imposed upon. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. ‘Now then, missie. Is it so, Annabel?” “I did not know,” she faltered, “anything about you. "Come Bess,—no whimpering.
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