Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. "Do you think I would take a harlot to my bed, if it didn't suit my purposes to do so?" "He says right," replied Mrs. ” Sebastian replied merrily, his eyes fixed on the road.
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