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One who—who—tres. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. Finding remonstrances of no avail, he had recourse to threats; and when threats failed, he adopted more decided measures. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. " "Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. "I never told anybody," she went on. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go.
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