You’re going to live under the cat’s foot. What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer. "Do not steel your heart against him, dear Thames," interposed Winifred. It wasn’t. She never knew what became of her farmer after that. “It was perhaps my fault. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday.
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