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Sheppard, you mean, Sir," interrupted his wife, ironically. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid. "I have saved the executioner a labour, by cutting his throat," replied Blueskin. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. She would marry him. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday.
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