" "Wait a bit, massa," replied the grinning negro,—"lilly bit—see all right fust. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. John exited quickly from the side of the stage and returned to where his mother and father sat. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. She had hardly noticed the loss of her dagger, so strong had been the waves of relief that attacked her on hearing that Jack had returned from death’s door. 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. And Mr. He was snoring stupidly.
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