Spurlock's vision was oddly of the past. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. "There's the exact expression I want. Ascertaining that it was Sheppard of whom this concourse was in pursuit, the two horsemen leapt the hedge, and were presently close upon him. "More than three hundred weight, Sir," replied the man. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess.
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