Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. Placing a piece of money in Morgan's hands, he hurried out of the churchyard. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds.
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