Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. Ann Veronica readjusted her chin on her hand. ‘A French rat with exceedingly long arms, I see. "Saved!" "Ay, ay, it's all bob, my covey! You're safe enough, that's certain!" responded the Minters, baying, yelping, leaping, and howling around him like a pack of hounds when the huntsman is beating cover; "but, where are the lurchers?" "Who?" asked Wood. It must be my fault that you have not learnt that your husband is the man to come to—at such a time as this. My vengeance is completely gratified.
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