If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go. ‘Ask him. But Jack was too well versed in the geography of the place to attempt either of them. ‘None of them means anything to you at all? How odd. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. Assured, if he remained much longer where he was, he would inevitably perish, Wood recommended himself to the protection of Heaven, and began his perilous course.
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