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What matters it? My servant, he is wounded—and by a Frenchman, if you wish to make an arrest. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. Jonathan, in all probability, knows nothing of these packets; and their production may serve to intimidate him. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son.
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