CHAPTER VIII. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. For some days we shall be very idle there among the trees and rocks. God forgive you!" "May He, indeed, forgive me!" returned Trenchard, crossing himself devoutly; "but my guilt is not the less heavy, because your child escaped.
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