” She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. Hill sat up on the pavement and mopped the blood from his cheek. His eyes were closed. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life.
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