Then a surge of rage welled up. He could scarcely blame her. As the woollendraper's back was towards him, he did not perceive him, but continued his passionate addresses. 6. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. 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.
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