The woman shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps you could point out such a party, Mr. Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly; "and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her. Blueskin will go with you,—for fear of a mistake. Never in this world! Let the hotel people take care of him; it's their affair. They should never come into contact with politics or economics—or any of those things. There is a small yewtree west of the church.
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