He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. Not up here, I think. The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done. 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.
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