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The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. Solomon Smith seemed to be Mr. Wood's at Dollis Hill, wholly unsuspicious of any designs against him, and, in fact, entirely ignorant of your being acquainted with his return, or even of his existence. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. When I am leading a true life, a pure and simple life free of all stimulants and excitements, I think—I think— oh! with pellucid clearness; but if I so much as take a mouthful of meat—or anything—the mirror is all blurred.
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