"Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. Austin departed, and presently afterwards returned with the two subordinate officers, each of whom wore a leathern apron round his waist, and carried a large hammer. Now, however, as Gerald watched them, their heads were together and they were murmuring in French. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. I didn't mean it. "Can't you guess?" returned Winifred, throwing her arms about her neck.
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