‘Oh, you may come to me on any mission you like,’ uttered Mrs Sindlesham roguishly. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. “My arrival appears to be opportune,” he said stiffly. The proceedings of this faction were narrowly watched by a vigilant and sagacious administration.
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