At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. Return to him, I say—" "I can't," replied Jack, doggedly.
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