John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. I do not want to hear from you even the threat of disobedience. Which is the nearest way to the river?" "Why, it's an awkward road to direct you," returned Jonathan. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now.
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