"We shall never be able to get you out unseen, Jack," whispered Poll Maggot. “All right, Dunster,” he said. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections.
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