"My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. He caught the elderly dame’s eye, throwing her a desperate message. The washerwoman reported that she had seen a man one day riding out for an early morning hunt, but was unsure of his identity. Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. I somehow understood. “You must pack for me. Why are you so anxious?" "Oh, if you can't see your way…. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. “Every one raves about her,” Lady Angela continued.
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