"My head fairly turns round. " The clock tinkled ten. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. Eh? Banging against the old rollers—that'll put some life into us both. They tried to read illustrated papers in an unconcerned manner and with forced attention, lest they should catch the leaping exultation in each other’s eyes. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it. Your pets are gone.
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