Starting off at a rapid pace, Jack dashed down Turnagain-lane, skirted the eastern bank of Fleet-ditch, crossed Holborn Bridge, and began to ascend the neighbouring hill. “Never—but, by Jove, you had a narrow escape,” Ennison exclaimed. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. " "Come this way, Mr. "By all means," rejoined Quilt. I'll leave these out, and to-morrow you can read them through.
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