He lost control of the machine. “No, stay, Lucy. It was still profoundly dark; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully.
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