Clarice rubbed her belly, singing songs to the unborn baby. 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. With a strong tendency to satire, but without a particle of malice or ill-nature in its display. "He has robbed him. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard.
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