She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. The girl is in it as deeply as he is. He too looked at the girl, slackened his pace and looked at her again through his eye-glasses, looked over his shoulder after he had passed, and finally came to a dead stop. I’m glad you could come. “It is nothing of any importance. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. And now let's go back to the Shovels, and finish our brandewyn and bier, Muntmeester.
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