” “Mr. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. But it’s as you say. I’ve told you that practically already.
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