The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. “Look here,” he cried out of a silence, with a sudden flash of understanding, “did you mean to throw me over when you came out with me this afternoon?” Ann Veronica hesitated, and with a startled mind realized the truth. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge.
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