The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. Very likely you will disapprove highly of what I have done—I wonder? You may, perhaps, think I have done it just in a fit of childish petulance because my father locked me in when I wanted to go to a ball of which he did not approve. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. It was such an unexpected stroke of fortune. "The lash cuts to the bone. Though they do, in secret, I believe. “And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all. If I am to die in the attempt, then so be it.
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