The burning of the great ghetto on the South Side had driven them forth into the inferno of the street-fighting, and whither they wended and whatever became of them I did not know and never learned.
Jack London. The Iron Heel.
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We entered the wood, and wended homeward.
Charlotte Brontë. Jane Eyre (1847)
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Geoffrey Chaucer. The Canterbury Tales. p.15 (1386)