“Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good. 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. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. Honestly, I never did.
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