There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. net Transcribers Note: Obvious typesetter errors from the original corrected in this etext. Forgive me?” She pleaded. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely.
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