The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. And not a worthy tome in sight. We were hunting and were separated from the rest of the hunters, so I said, ‘There are ways for a man to escape his wife where no one is harmed. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used.
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