" "Rely on me," rejoined Kneebone. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. She entered the kitchen. It was a purse. ’ ‘Was it?’ Her lips twitched.
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