What his head conceived his hand executed. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. The few whites he had ever known generally offered to pet him when they really wanted to kick him. "It's better," observed Sheppard, meaningly. But his hand was withheld by Thames. The terrors and anxieties of the last few months seemed to have fallen from her, to have passed away like an ugly dream, dismissed with a shudder even from the memory.
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