A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. ” He smiled at the naiveté of her suggestion. ” He started back as though he had been shot. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose.
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