Warding off the blows as well as he could with the bar, Jack struck both the horses on the head, and the animals plunged so violently, that they not only prevented their riders from assailing him, but also kept off the hostlers; and, in the confusion that ensued, Jack managed to spring over the fence, and shaped his course across the field in the direction of Sir John Oldcastle's. “Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. I’m off to England.
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