CHAPTER I. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. " Sheppard started to his feet. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. It was hard to resist. ‘Espèce de bête,’ she snarled.
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