I speak frankly, because you also know that no possible extremity would induce me to accept help from any living person. ” He stared at her, trying to guess at the mystery of her thoughts. Love stories! It was of negligible importance that these books were bound in paper; Romance lay unalterably within. “My husband knows all. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. This accident rather confirms than checks my purpose. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. One small wing lay at the north of the gate, where Giltspur Street Compter now stands; and the Press Yard, which was detached from the main building, was situated at the back of Phoenix Court.
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