CHAPTER XIX. ’ ‘Remenham House,’ exclaimed Trodger, who had been watching this interchange open-mouthed. "I can't," answered Blueskin. We WERE thieves. Who walked you home?\" Mike asked her, his voice tinged with jealousy, as she passed the garlic bread. Where can I have heard it!" "Devil knows," rejoined Blueskin. Amid this varied throng,—varied in appearance, but alike in character,—one object alone, we have said, rivetted Mrs. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. ’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. "What is this?" she wanted to know.
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