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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

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

Although you have, thrice within as many
weeks, turned your lawful son, Mr Edward, from your door, you may have
time, you may have years to make your peace with HIM, Sir John: but that
twelve o'clock will soon be here, and soon be past for ever.'
'I thank you very much,' returned the knight, kissing his delicate hand
to the locksmith, 'for your guileless advice; and I only wish, my good
soul, although your simplicity is quite captivating, that you had a
little more worldly wisdom. I never so much regretted the arrival of my
hairdresser as I do at this moment. God bless you! Good morning! You'll
not forget my message to the ladies, Mr Varden? Peak, show Mr Varden to
the door.'
Gabriel said no more, but gave the knight a parting look, and left him.
As he quitted the room, Sir John's face changed; and the smile gave
place to a haggard and anxious expression, like that of a weary actor
jaded by the performance of a difficult part. He rose from his bed with
a heavy sigh, and wrapped himself in his morning-gown.
'So she kept her word,' he said, 'and was constant to her threat! I
would I had never seen that dark face of hers,--I might have read these
consequences in it, from the first.


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