At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. With a curt command to her cavalier to get up on the box and give the direction to the interested coachman, he jumped in beside the girl and shut them both into privacy. "And now, mark me. He was no match for Brendon. Don't shake so. Those were dreams. “Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses.
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