Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. On the north stood the battlements of one of the towers of the gate. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye.
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