Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. ” “And why shouldn’t you?” “I felt that sort of thing couldn’t go on. I shall not part with you again. ” She repeated, as if she answered an objector: “A sort of blacklegging. Don't be alarmed by their manners, Mr. '—'Oh! yes we are,' says he. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself.
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