“He has a stubbly yellow moustache, weak eyes, and great horrid hands. Nothing but the constraint of social usage now linked him to her. Great stone staircases leading no one knew whither, and long gloomy passages, impressed the occasional visitor with the idea that he was traversing a building of vast extent; and, though this was not the case in reality, the deception was so cleverly contrived that it seldom failed of producing the intended effect. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. And so I'll tell you what I did —" And she burst into a laugh that froze Jack's blood in his veins. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. "You'd have hit it off better if you'd called her The Sow.
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