Twice Spurlock went to Copeley's—twenty miles to the northwest—for ice and mail. "Shall I shoot him?" "Yes! yes! put it to his ear!" cried Mrs. Peg after peg had gone down his blistered throat, but never had a smile touched his lips, never had his gaze roved inquisitively. “You needn’t be anxious about that! I shall contrive to live.
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