It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. Martha had the square look of solid English citizenry, which was not deceiving. He shook his head all the time. The thought of beauty became an obsession. “There are a good many Whites in London. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand. The man Hill has persecuted me for months—ever since I have been in England.
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