Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. Sebastian rose from the tomb. “I thank you for your advice,” she said. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. Yet he stays. Then he released her hand, and sat back a little, appearing to concentrate his thoughts on her face. But, it can't be helped. 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.
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