The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up. 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. “The wrappered life-discipline! One comes to that at last. Except he was the only idiot who would stay. My heart would speak if it could, for it is very full.
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