Anna raised her eyes. “Mr. . Never sent for the shirt. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. I don’t see what you can have to say. That he was hot and breathless was of no matter; in that moment he would have faced a dozen Samsons. But for me it doesn’t matter.
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