“Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. God, Lucy, what’s it been, how many years?” “I’m so sorry, John.
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