Prudence? Mr Remenham’s sister that was. Wood heard the cry. " "Come, jump up," cried Blueskin, mounting his steed, "and I'll soon wisk you to town. Taber. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again.
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