When I promised to marry you I thought I could; I thought it was a possible arrangement. ‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. Then the girl was heading past the inn and Roding marched down to confront her. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. It just made me mad to the boiling point.
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