"Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. She saw herself in very much Vivie’s position—managing something. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. "Farewell for ever," said Jack, extending his hand to Mrs.
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