’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. I'd like to shake you until your bones rattled; but the bones of a Roundhead wouldn't rattle to any purpose. Spurling. A question next arose whether the prisoner could be executed under the existing warrant,—some inclining to one opinion, some to another.
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