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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. He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity. Every minute I spend here is an education to me. Particularly when it was obvious the fellow was one of these pitiful wretches weak enough to allow themselves to be ousted from their inheritances and thus obliged to come seeking succour of their neighbours. . The other kicked over the traces a bit, made rather a hit with her singing at some of those French places, and went the pace in a mild, ladylike sort of way. He continued his ditty, in spite of the angry glances of his leader.
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This video was uploaded to woodsdrivingschool.com on 20-09-2024 19:28:46
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