A boy like John’s dashing friend David Mitchell, someone who shares your love of academics. . ToC Nearly nine years after the events last recorded, and about the middle of May, 1724, a young man of remarkably prepossessing appearance took his way, one afternoon, along Wych Street; and, from the curiosity with which he regarded the houses on the left of the road, seemed to be in search of some particular habitation. The major will not call. Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. I've another reason for supposing he'll pay me a visit. When he awoke, it was late in the day; but though he heard voices outside, and now and then caught a glimpse of a face peeping at him through the iron grating over the door, no one entered the prison, or held any communication with him. There was a recurrence of fever, but nothing alarming. Taber did not leave all his money in the office. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau.
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