Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. \" Lucy replied meekly. "The key's on the outside— quick! quick!" Instantly alive to this chance, Blueskin broke away. "Don't leave him, if you're at all fearful, my dear," replied Wood, receiving the little burthen with a laugh. " "Mother be——!" returned Jack.
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