"When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in
London on the night of the Great Storm. While the carpenter irresolutely quitted the room, with a strong presentiment of
ill upon his mind, a light quick step was heard descending the stairs, and before
he could call out to prevent it, a man was admitted into the passage. And pouring the contents of a small powderflask into a bumper of brandy, he tendered him the mixture. Posts were offered to all who chose to accept them. Blueskin is booked. Spurlock remained
where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance. That’s the flat business
situation. As she danced there was in
her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. How long he continued thus he scarcely knew; but just before dawn, he managed
to regain his legs, and, crawling up a bank, perceived he was within a quarter of
a mile of Tottenham. He encouraged her to join him in his debauchery. ‘It did not seem to me that it
was so. "That's tremendous!" he cried. She was a lone white woman,
therefore marked. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been
taken out of the air she breathed. Old Bedlam
291
IX.
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