She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. "Now, let's see who'll dare to take him down," she cried. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. The Well Hole.
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