” “Nor I,” she remarked tersely. " "'Zounds!" cried the executioner, in astonishment. He drew a little sigh of relief. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. He motioned the young man to the rear chair, because at that hour the youth appeared to be a quantity close to zero.
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