“I had no idea that it was so abominably late. She did not know herself. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. It's hereditary, like de jigt, vat you call it—gout —haw! haw!" "If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, "it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but, in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, "it's quite out of the question. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. “No, no,” she cried. "Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water.
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