Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be. They are long gone. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. "No, no," rejoined Thames; "fly—or I will not answer for your safety. "The devil!" ejaculated Jonathan. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. 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.
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