"Set it down, I tell you," thundered Blueskin, "or I shall do it a mischief. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. Besides, how am I to ride home without them?" "Don't distress yourself," returned Jack, "you shall walk. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station.
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