The gallows has groaned for him for years. The house will be well rid of him, for a more idle, good-for-nothing reprobate never crossed its threshold. 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. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets.
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