Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. Jove, he didn’t take to it kindly, I can tell you. ‘Might have forgiven him,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘if he hadn’t taken the babe. Sebastian dared not approach her. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. ” “You—you did what?” Anna exclaimed.
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