8. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. " "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. "Don't touch me. That’s probably true. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. “Most of it is ugly and frowsy,” she declared, “but it isn’t worth talking about. Because their human lives were so short, the happily married had no time to get sick of one another. "We have him!" cried Jonathan, hurrying down the steps. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently.
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