One only. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. She had lost it. "As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness.
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