“Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. ‘I have only borrowed it. "We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs.
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