"I've been wondering, until this morning, if you were real. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. But about the unknown Englishman she was not so satisfied. He had now reached what was called the Lower Leads,—a flat, covering a part of the prison contiguous to the gateway, and surrounded on all sides by walls about fourteen feet high. One doesn’t go about with these passions allayed simply because they have made wreckage and a scandal. We simply can’t get away. Stanley, at the door.
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