She never knew what became of her farmer after that. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers. His most eager inquiries and most lavish bribes could gain no further information than that she had left for England, and that her address was—London.
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