The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. “Hainault, Celeste’s friend. Ain’t enough as I’ve got militiamen quartered on me this se’ennight, lazing about all day, eating me out of house and home and drinking my liquor into the bargain. Then a ride to London on horseback. McClintock wrote me about you; but all I needed was the sight of your face as it was a moment gone.
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