Also, you must send someone to fetch my horse—at least, it is not mine but I have borrowed it to come here—because it will be dark very soon and—’ ‘Woof! Hold it, hold it,’ begged the sergeant. Perhaps Ramage was the more astonished. Get you gone. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. " "By no means," rejoined Wood, hastily. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. Not for me.
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