Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world.
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