There is a small yewtree west of the church. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. Anna made things for her. I want to get away—to go to London. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. ” “In a minute, in a minute,” he answered, his eyes fixed upon Anna. In vain he fondly urged his suit, And, all in vain, the question put; She answered,—"Mr.
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