“What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. She is no more English than that set of beggars over there. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. In a few minutes, an appalling change was perceptible. Wood, bursting into tears, "God bless you!" Jack extended his hand towards him, and looked anxiously for Thames; but he was nowhere to be seen. "Do you think I'm afeard of a beggarly thief-taker and his myrmidons? Not I.
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