“Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. Open the window, Thames, and call for assistance. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. 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.
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