She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel. What news. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. 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. He leaned forward to better drink her in. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast.
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