The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. " "Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority. " "I declare I don't know what to do," said Wood, burned by conflicting emotions. Still, his conscience was partly satisfied. You don’t know. The advanced guard rode on to drive away any opposition, while the main body of the procession crossed the bridge, and slowly toiled up Holborn Hill.
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