Mr. ‘So it was. On their left the river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the black water. Overcome by his affliction, Mr. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner's breast. In this way, they reached Holborn Bridge. This did not tickle his vanity; on the contrary, it enlivened his terror, which is a phase of fascination. "Rowland," she rejoined, "you strive in vain to terrify me into compliance with your wishes.
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