“You go home,” he said, at parting; “you go home. "'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared. She rang again with the same result. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles.
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