CHAPTER XI. “Yes,” she said at last, “it is firm and affectionate. Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense. It’s—Mrs. 1. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. 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. I only want to know the truth, and I will move heaven and earth to have it set aside.
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