Starting off at a rapid pace, Jack dashed down Turnagain-lane, skirted the eastern bank of Fleet-ditch, crossed Holborn Bridge, and began to ascend the neighbouring hill. There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. I must bless him before I die. ” “Thanks for the nice evening, John.
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