You can trust me, Anna. Over the gateway towards Snow Hill, were two strong wards, called the Castle and the Red Room. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. How long he sat there, reeling off this drivel, he never knew.
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