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Darrell. She had reason enough to be grateful to Prudence Sindlesham and it was not fair that this horrible feeling of loneliness should be made known to her. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. That is quite as far as I mean to tempt Providence to-night. You know nothing of life, nothing of its dangers, nothing of its possibilities.
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