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. “You do not quite understand,” she said gently. O God! O God!" And he appeared convulsed with agony. E. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominous intermissions. ‘Cajolery? This is not your style.
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