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Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. You disgust me. ” “Mr. ‘Alors, I see it. It’s one of our conventional superstitions. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored.
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