He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features. “Is there any urgency?” The doctor bent over his patient, who seemed to have fallen asleep. 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. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. For all that, it is folly.
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