. Mr. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. There was no one else in the doorway. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. Hill, Meysey Hill.
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