“Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. Miss Mary being his only child ’an all, he were in a right pelter. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. “Of course I mean, who was she?” “I believe that her name was Pellissier,” Ennison answered. Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. “You poor little girl!” he cried. His demeanour then was sober enough to lend colour to that belief. But d—n him! let's talk o' something more agreeable. She was radiant.
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