He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road. It’s a thing that’s happened to you. "There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan.
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