The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable. Cathy's eyebrows perked up. Doesn’t matter a bit to me. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. ‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. “Won’t you tell me why you have come to England?” she said.
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