"You're a bold fellow, Jack," rejoined the blacksmith. ’ ‘Don’t you dare. ‘Again?’ Another simple parry. " So saying, he re-entered the house, closed the door, and, followed by the widow, proceeded to the fire-place, where a handful of chips, apparently just lighted, crackled within the rusty grate. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. The doleful procession at once assumed a festive character. Instead, they appeared to be at the hygienic level of tramps’ lodging-houses. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry.
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