tones or soil or asill, Even as of your freedom—and I feel, despite myself, t of excitement. But tement becomes unease. I rising, straig
supposed it complete: but nocretc red land, and gaping trenc celess roofs and jutting spars of wood, naked as bones.
Nos upon ts in train begins to rise. I dont like tion. e begin to cross streets—grey streets, black streets—so many monotonous streets, I to tell t! Sucalloton aste. ords, every.—Broug Carriages.—Paper-Stainers.—Supported Entirely.—to Let!— to Let!—By Voluntary Subscription.—
t, train and cast t, vast, vaulting roof of tarnis eam and fluttering birds. e so a frig. t seems to me—of a thousand people.
Paddington terminus, says Richard. Come on.
look at me—I ake our bags. e stand in a line of people—a queue, I kno for a carriage—a y ells ones driver to go about ts Park. I knoy of opportunities fulfilled. tling and clamour, I do not kno is t understand. It is marked I cannot read it. ty, tition, of
brick, of reet, of person—of dress, and feature, and expression—stuns and exs me. I stand at Ricle is blos—ordinary men, gentlemen—pass by us, running-
e take our place in t last, and are jerked out of terminus into cense. Are you startled, by treets? pass t did you expect? ty, mind it. Dont mind it at all. e are going to your new home.
to our , I , I will sleep.
to our udies me a moment longer, t troubles you— he blind.
And so once again , and so tion of a coac, time, by all t see it see e takes, at all: per kno, if I did, tudied maps of ty, and kno say, ir of my senses and . Be bold, I am this. Be bold!
Ricurns for our bags. From ed, and blink at t— t ty fleece of a sed to find myself at to tered streets t appear to me unspeakably s, dead ained arcc his arm.
Is t? I say.
Quite rig be alarmed. e cannot live grandly, yet. And make our entrance t s all.
You are still afraid t my uncle may men, to ch
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