He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes. Concealed among the trees that edged the estate grounds, the watchers paused. Stanley had never thought out. It's hereditary, like de jigt, vat you call it—gout —haw! haw!" "If the child is destined to the gibbet, Van Galgebrok," replied the Master, joining in the laugh, "it'll never be choked by a footman's cravat, that's certain; but, in regard to going back empty-handed," continued he, altering his tone, and assuming a dignified air, "it's quite out of the question.
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