Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside. "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. "I suppose I must have been senseless for some time; for, on coming to myself, I found this gash in my head, and the ground covered with blood.
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