"You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. "This gash," he added, pointing to one of the larger scars, "was a wipe from the hanger of Tom Thurland, whom I apprehended for the murder of Mrs. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. "Take off the ruffles, Blueskin," rejoined Wild. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. Or felt it. " "Because he said he was a Yale man?" "That might be it.
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