Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. "I knew his poor mother, and for her sake I'll not see this done," cried John Dump. "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. One did not use pistols against a female. And I want him out of uniform.
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