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CHAPTER VIII. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. Suddenly he felt Ruth swing violently away from him, and he wheeled to learn the cause. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. "Are you sure these bars touch the ground?" "They come within a yard of it," answered Jonathan. ” “Excuse me,” Mr. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly.
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