It was an impulse. "You cannot understand me, Madam; and it is well you cannot. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes. I'm no mollycoddle. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion. You’re just a particular being with nothing else in the world to class with you.
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