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. "'Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. "I will struggle no longer with destiny. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. "That's usual.
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