And no ill-chances. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. Let alone a girl. “You are one of the Hampshire Pellissiers, I know, and your family are quite as good as ours.
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