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She was gone. Wood, would preclude the possibility of his remaining with his new friends as long as his inclinations prompted. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. Wood's boat, impelled alike by oar and tide, shot past the mark at which it aimed; and before it could be again brought about, the struggle had terminated. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city.
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