“It’s the spring,” he said. This is your choice. ‘No, no, Jacques, you have done very right. How will we get there, I’d like to know? We’ve no money. But it’s very beastly. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. "Curse him!" muttered Abraham. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Then she realized that it was her business to let Manning talk and impose his own interpretations upon the situation so far as he was concerned. "These people are all in league with him," cried the latter.
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