"Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. It is useless to contend with him, even with right on your side. " "It shall be, Sir," replied Ireton, bowing.
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