But you’ve got to lend me forty pounds. And shall their wretched offspring live to blight my hopes, and blast my fame? Never!" And, with these words, he grasped Wood by the throat, and, despite his resistance, dragged him to the very verge of the platform. 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. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. But we were both pledged to secrecy, and I couldn’t reveal my part for fear that I would lose my place.
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