" "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. "We'll give them the slip yet, and hang that butcherly thief-taker upon his own gibbet. . Now let us forget it. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. Twice we hired caterers. Afterwards, it may be different.
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