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. “You don’t want to go?” “No. F. Not much to his surprise, Jack Kimble shook his head. The storm appeared to have blown over, for they were conversing in a very amicable manner with Mr. 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. I could not dream of loving you. At least, I frustrated her design in calling upon him this morning.
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