. "Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water. He knew. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. Ralph. I never forgive an injury.
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