"Lor' ha' mussy, Sir!—how you do talk," said the woman; "this is no robber, I'm sure. God bless you, Auntie! I'll go into the mills and make pulp with my bare hands, if you want me to. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. However, no one had discovered me, so I contrived to drag myself to my horse.
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