It was a night well-fitted to their enterprise, calm, still, and profoundly dark. “I suppose some one makes a bit on the food,” she said. . "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. His legs were dreadfully swelled; his hands bruised; and his fetters occasioned him intolerable pain. She was as lovely in the spirit as in the flesh. With one or two exceptions, there were no pews; and, as the intercourse with London was then but slight, the seats were occupied almost exclusively by the villagers.
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