Shoplatch. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. “What do you want to go out here for, Lucy?” He 217 asked. Having now fairly got out of Newgate for the second time, with a heart throbbing with exultation, he hastened to make good his escape. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. It comforts him when he is most forlorn. Somebody tricked you back yonder—baited you for spite. In spite of all this, he grew daily better and stronger, and his spirits revived. And from that point they went on to a thoroughly embittering wrangle.
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