" "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. "Let him alone," said Trenchard authoritatively, "I have another question to propose. ‘I’ll wager that militiaman never rode the animal, then. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling supported by huge uncovered rafters, and so low as scarcely to allow a tall man like himself to stand erect beneath it.
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