” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. Very well! I will try to help you. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows. I tell you—never mind the bill. He had, for the most part, been correct. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone. “I hope that it has not done any harm. ‘You’re speaking the truth. Jolly nose! he who sees thee across a broad glass Beholds thee in all thy perfection; And to the pale snout of a temperate ass Entertains the profoundest objection. Nothing can alter my determination. It’s Providence. Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street.
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