You could walk the city streets and with every blink you could take in a new sight of beauty so great that your heart would weep for it. I do—with all my heart. Wood," she continued, with a sudden change of tone, and convulsively clutching the carpenter's arm, "promise it me. Well might she do so, Gerald thought in irritation. ‘None of them means anything to you at all? How odd. His course, however, was no longer interrupted, and he crept on. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Immediately Spurlock began to chant one of these.
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