I’m that shamed to confess it, miss, but it were then I thought of Martha. It occurred to her that it was absurd and wrong to be so continuously thinking of one engrossing topic, and she made a strenuous effort to force her mind to other questions. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. So get up, and let's be off.
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