" And she burst into a wild hysterical laugh. He drew compellingly upon his new characters to keep him out of this melancholy channel; but they ebbed and ebbed; he could not hold them. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. They got in my mouth. Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. ‘You are wise, Marthe. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault.
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