. Yet there was nothing for her to do. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. Cocking the gun. At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. For all the enervating heat, he applied himself vigorously to his tasks. And a ballot-box—” Her face assumed an expression of intellectual conflict.
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