Remarking that they struck off at a turning on the left, he took the same road, and soon found himself on Paddington-Green. Thames Street was wholly impassable. She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. “You do not know what you say. "I want to speak to Edgeworth Bess myself. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished.
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