“Mr. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. He looked at her, his eyes filled with excited terror and astonishment at her move. ‘You’re not going to kill me this time. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree. 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. He had been very easy or she had been very lucky. Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson. The danger you put yourself in by remaining here astounds me.
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