For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. "But are you really there?" "No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. God only knows what I have done, or left undone. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up.
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