Hardy had a fresh team, of six horses, for the last thirty miles, and must have sped along the turnpike at nearly sixteen miles an hour."He looked so ...restfallen that I slapped him on the back, and said, to cheer him up. "At least this makes you seem as most men, that you too can make mistakes. It was rather galling for me to find you ever right and omniscient."He gave me a grateful smile. "So what do we do now? The next mail coach to London doesn't leave until eight tomorrow morning." That is. She didn’t ask if I wanted this, she told me this was happening.“I don’t need to,” I argued.“We want you to do this,” she countered. “It can only help.”“I don’t want to talk to anyone about this, much less a stranger,”“Jake, they are having counselors there this week and next week, and that’s it. We’d like you to go while they are offering this, please.”“Fine,” I complied, having no fight left in me.I rode along with mom, staring out the passenger window at the dreary and dead landscape of the. More

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