"Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. " "Then I'll lend a helping hand. Afterwards, it may be different.
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