Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats. You must let me do whatever I can for you.
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