An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. The aunt laughed. 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. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child.
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