‘You have a knack of saying just the wrong thing. “Oh, it is okay. "Two hundred pounds!" exclaimed Ireton, "besides the governor's offer—that's three hundred. She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. "Yes, my angel, to her—rest her soul! She extorted it from me, and bound me by a solemn oath to fulfil it. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments. Wood.
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