Spurling," rejoined Ireton; "we can taste the rum when he returns. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. She stabbed him with her canines. “Why should it matter?” he said.
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