His mind was busy with a résumé of yesterday's unusual events. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. “Come with me. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. "She has," rejoined Sheppard. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. "Hush!" she said. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack. ToC Saint Giles's Round-house was an old detached fabric, standing in an angle of Kendrick Yard. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance.
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