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“Who can tell?” she said. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. F. I will not trust you. Adieu! my charmer. " "Ay, marry," replied Wood, with a look that seemed to say that he did not think it required any surprising skill in the art of divination to predict the doom of the individual in question; but whatever opinion he might entertain, he contented himself with inquiring into the grounds of the conjuror's evil augury respecting the infant. I do not believe that you will marry David Courtlaw. But it was now too late to turn back, and, nerving himself for the shock he expected to encounter, he ventured after his conductor. Do they, Bess?" "Certainly not," replied the young lady appealed to, "especially about their sons. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. Listen to me, Thames.
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