She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. Not fit to be dust on your boots. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. ‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. “Feel better. ” His eyes were squeezed shut. A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room.
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