" The doctor ran his fingers through his hair, despairingly. I hated the stuff. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. Prom a knot of idlers at a public-house, he learnt that Jonathan Wild had just ridden past, and that his setters were scouring the country in every direction.
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