” For a time she sat on a rail before leaving the road for the downland turf. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. ‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. We’ll have some buttered toast. "O, Lord!" ejaculated Wood. ‘Oh, ah. You must be lonely here with only a few men friends. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less.
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