The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. ’ With difficulty, Gerald bit back a laugh. "Let the gentleman take his own course," said Jonathan, mildly. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. "Hush!" she said. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard.
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