She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. 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. ‘You don’t believe her?’ ‘My dear Major Alderley, I do not know her,’ Mrs Sindlesham pointed out.
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