’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. Their laughter, together with the agonized yowling of the dog, drew a circle of wondering natives; and at length McClintock himself came over to see what the racket was about. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. "O, lud!" she cried; "French noblemen in disguise! and so rude as I was! I shall never recover it!" "A good supper will set all to rights," insinuated Kneebone. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch. Ireton; for may I be hanged myself if I don't believe he'll be as good as his word. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. ’ Then she came closer and put her hand on his chest so that it rested on the braid that decorated his scarlet coat.
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