” He slipped off the horse. The fireplace was at the other end, with the sheeted shapes of two sofas either side. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. ‘Tie a horse behind the carriage?’ he echoed incredulously. I'll remember that.
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