Thames did not attempt to offer him any consolation, for he was almost as much dejected. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green.
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