"Why, how the devil did you happen to guess that?" cried the janizary. You steered and I rowed stroke. Wood. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. I have sinned deeply; but I have been sorely tried. ToC Tyburn was now at hand. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters.
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