. . The ladder was now within reach. Wild's dwelling without apprehension, or quitted it without satisfaction. "It is droll," he said. It was a haunted place. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. At least I can give you a glimmer. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute.
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