Burn your palette and your easel. With this person—who was no other than Mr. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. Sheppard, with an agonized look at Wood.
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