" "Arrested!" exclaimed Trenchard, drawing his sword. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. Yes. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. Nothing would induce me to marry you, or any man at present. But though she lied about pretty much everything else, she didn’t lie about that.
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