Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. ’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. " "For you!" exclaimed Jonathan; "don't flatter yourself that I'm thinking of you.
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