‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. ‘There are no Remenhams left. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. ” “But what have I done?” “Elope! Go off in this way. You forget all the mass of training and tradition and instinct that go to make him a tolerable master. " "Entreat a fiddlestick!" retorted Mrs. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it.
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