"But don't ever let me see them again. As long as your son observes that precept I'll befriend him, but no longer. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. I did not reckon upon—him. ” “I may come a little way, then?” he begged. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. After some time, the scuffle grew more and more distant, until nothing could be heard.
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