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That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. “How dared you do yourself this injustice?” “I did it for her sake,” she answered. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. "Fly, Captain—fly!" Aroused to a sense of the possibility of escape, Jack, who had viewed the deadly assault with savage satisfaction, burst from his captors and made for the door. And for Suzanne and the vicomte, I am nothing. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth.
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