"Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. ‘How do you do? I am so happy to meet you. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. But Jonathan was not to be deterred.
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