Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. He rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose. "I generally do," replied Blueskin, pouring out a bumper of sack. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. A glance satisfied Jonathan that the turnkey was not aware of the prisoner's escape; and he resolved not to destroy what he considered a good jest, by a premature disclosure of it. ‘We was of an age, you see, miss. She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her.
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