“So, Rhea must have known you for what you are. "No, I won't hear you, murderer," rejoined Wood. She charged boldly into the space of Miss Miniver’s rhetorical pause. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. So I packed up and came to London next day.
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