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Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. "Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet. I was forced to lay on a bed of nails for three days. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. Nothing, in short, portable or valuable was left. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 19:25:23