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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Nicholas Nickleby"


The past night, the day before, and many other days and nights beside,
all mingled themselves up in one unintelligible and senseless whirl; he
could not separate the transactions of one time from those of another.
Now, the noise of the wheels resolved itself into some wild tune in
which he could recognise scraps of airs he knew; now, there was nothing
in his ears but a stunning and bewildering sound, like rushing water.
But his companion rallied him on being so silent, and they talked and
laughed boisterously. When they stopped, he was a little surprised to
find himself in the act of smoking; but, on reflection, he remembered
when and where he had taken the cigar.
They stopped at the avenue gate and alighted, leaving the carriage to
the care of the servant, who was a smart fellow, and nearly as well
accustomed to such proceedings as his master. Sir Mulberry and his
friend were already there. All four walked in profound silence up the
aisle of stately elm trees, which, meeting far above their heads, formed
a long green perspective of Gothic arches, terminating, like some old
ruin, in the open sky.


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