I've sent for the priest. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. It wouldn't do to say that she was from the hospital. It was easy for him to see that she desired to be agreeable to him. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. ‘Have no fear,’ he uttered soothingly, reaching out to pat her free hand. Earles was absolutely indifferent.
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