. “I mean it. You are nothing of the sort. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. The prospect of the gallows would never deter me from taking to the road, if I were so inclined. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged.
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