Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. "Let me see him. “Show me around you house, John. The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. Let us be gone.
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