It’s not far from twilight. It’s a sort of home-leaving instinct. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. I proved myself early as an athlete, skills I retained long after my return home. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. A remittance man.
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