"You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. At last, a little way to the northward of Euston Road, the moral cloud seemed to lift, the moral atmosphere to change; clean blinds appeared in the windows, clean doorsteps before the doors, a different appeal in the neatly placed cards bearing the word ————————————— | APARTMENTS ————————————— | in the clear bright windows. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. He seemed to be labouring under some great excitement. Your aunt liked the pheasant. It is useless to talk. There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged. What she admired in her man was his resolute defense of his opinions. Wood, I forget nothing.
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