She can't last long. 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. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. Twenty-one, twenty-two. Still, the respite was sufficient for Spurlock to look about for some weapon. There is worse to come. ’ ‘This is what you say of him? Me, I find he is growling all the time like a dog. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. ‘I do not mind to pray, no. . I was mean to him.
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