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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

I tell you I'm going to sleep.'
Dennis venturing to say something more in spite of this caution, the
desperate fellow struck at him with all his force, and missing him, lay
down again with many muttered oaths and imprecations, and turned his
face towards the wall. After two or three ineffectual twitches at his
dress, which he was hardy enough to venture upon, notwithstanding his
dangerous humour, Mr Dennis, who burnt, for reasons of his own, to
pursue the conversation, had no alternative but to sit as patiently as
he could: waiting his further pleasure.

Chapter 75

A month has elapsed,--and we stand in the bedchamber of Sir John
Chester. Through the half-opened window, the Temple Garden looks green
and pleasant; the placid river, gay with boat and barge, and dimpled
with the plash of many an oar, sparkles in the distance; the sky is blue
and clear; and the summer air steals gently in, filling the room with
perfume. The very town, the smoky town, is radiant. High roofs and
steeple-tops, wont to look black and sullen, smile a cheerful grey;
every old gilded vane, and ball, and cross, glitters anew in the bright
morning sun; and, high among them all, St Paul's towers up, showing its
lofty crest in burnished gold.


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