Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. I am resolved to see her, without delay, and ascertain if it's possible to remove her. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark.
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