But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. “I lied, as I would have committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you. But the rise of the chest was quite perceptible now. Maggot tenderly. 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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