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. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. ‘Assuredly it is locked up. I do not know anything of him since I have fourteen years, and that he sent me to Blaye to be a nun.
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