The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. . The big gray spaces of London, the shop-lit, greasy, shining streets, had become very remote; the biological laboratory with its work and emotions, the meetings and discussions, the rides in hansoms with Ramage, were like things in a book read and closed. " "What motive can you have for so vile a deed?" asked Mrs. ‘Ah, grandpére. Marry, come up! I'm not so easily deluded. But you have, haven’t you?’ He tutted again.
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