“That’s suicidal bullshit, Lucy. 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 know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. " "Be silent dog," cried Jonathan. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. ” “No? But it is very simple. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs.
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