Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. “What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. C. “I am. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. Kneebone?" "He'd better not," muttered Blueskin. ‘What else was there to do? He paid off the servants and left old Pottiswick in charge, saying that the place would have to remain empty until the heir was found. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly.
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