” Sir John coughed. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died. Her tears dissipated as she began to convulse, completely devoid of any spare fluid. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. Kneebone smiled assent. ‘Wait! No time for that. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. ” “Yes,” she said, and abruptly she liked him enormously.
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