Her answer was not quite ready. That paper must be signed, or I take my departure. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. 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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