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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. " "Not necessarily. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. I've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet. Something to tell you. The manager conceded that he saw, that his original diagnosis was at fault. Now lend me your own hand. That is easy. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. The rest was easy.
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