"Take care of your charge. “I’m thirsty. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place. ” Brendon hesitated for a moment. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. We are off for a second honeymoon. What little happiness I had I was forced to steal. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. He, however, made no remark at the time, but instantly prepared to set out.
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