’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed.
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