"Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. The Ragged Edge. It was a large room, about twenty feet long and fifteen broad, and had an arched stone roof.
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