"You are free," said he, "that grating forms a ladder, by which you may descend in safety. I'll forgive him if he does. Lucy felt herself go very red in the cheeks and lowered her hand rather slowly. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. “I will make it possible,” he cried.
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