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. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. "I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. It was Blueskin. "Very well," said Rachel, with a toss of her pretty head, "very well. “It’s settled.
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