At the end of two long lines of foot-guards stood the cart with a powerful black horse harnessed to it. “I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. " "In whose favour is it made?" he inquired, sternly. He felt hands tugging at him, mysterious creatures with long fingers and sharp nails that pulled at his flesh. ‘Mary was indeed naïve, but there I should say the similarity ends.
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