You can’t go. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. ‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl. ‘Well, water under the bridge is that, miss. Darell's peculiar bent of mind was exemplified in a rusty broadsword, a tall grenadier's cap, a musket without lock or ramrod, a belt and cartouch-box, with other matters evincing a decided military taste.
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