"As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in. Lucy was sent reeling into a stone wall, which she hit with a great thud. ’ Kimble nodded. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil.
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