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A visit to Weymouth with John Cowper Powys [ ⇒ continue... ]
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What any individual soul must do that wishes to live a thrillingly
secretive life, and a life worthy of the planet Earth, is to detach itself
completely from contemporary fads and fashions.
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BRUNSWICK TERRACE
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They had not moved on many paces when Mr. Trot
enquired, with a screwing up of his eyes that distorted his whole physiognomy, whether she would prefer to follow Preston Road, "back of Brunswick", or go on by the sea and "turn up Greenhill". This enquiry broke the trance into which the departure of the Jobber had thrown her.(...)
"I like the look of Brunswick Terrace," she murmured, "so let's go that way."
Obedient to her whim, the worthy Mr. Trot, whose Christian name had been reduced to the single syllabe "Bum", led her across the road;
and they walked rapidly along the narrow pavement in front of the bow-windows of a row of comfortable little lodging-houses. Some of these had lights in the windows and some not; but they all stood back behind neat little area-gardens whose tiny patches of earth were carefully dug up, and in many cases heaped with manure.
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