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Maggot. Seems as she don’t trust soldiers easy. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. 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.
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