They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. "Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. I'll knock off at tea. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. Returning to the churchyard, he walked round it; and on the western side, near a small yew-tree discovered a new-made grave.
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