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“See you. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. The tables were then cleared. Marvel, who had been a little discomposed by the treatment he had experienced on Holborn Hill, very composedly filled and lighted his pipe. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. Then the foremost bowed and passed on.
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