’ ‘I see now how it was that Marthe knew of the secret passage,’ Melusine said. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence. " "Dear me!" sympathised Mrs.
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