“Yes. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. A world of haystacks, bean-stacks, and strawricks flanked the granges adjoining his habitation; the yard was crowded with poultry, pigeons were feeding at his feet, cattle were being driven towards the stall, horses led to the stable, a large mastiff was rattling his chain, and stalking majestically in front of his kennel, while a number of farming-men were passing and repassing about their various occupations. " "Queer birds. I’ve bored you or something. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. She's the boss.
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