Suddenly she understood. "You're a bold fellow, Jack," rejoined the blacksmith. Upon the steps leading to the gates of the church stood two persons whom Jack instantly recognised. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. You don’t want to look like Bozo. “You were talking to that fellow Ramage to-day—in the Avenue. The farmer had become obsessed with her and asked her to marry. They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone.
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