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Neverwhere I have never been to St. John’s Wood. I dare not. I should be afraid of the innumerable night of fir trees, afraid to come upon a blood red cup and the bearing of the wings of the Eagle. —The Napoleon of Netting Hill, G. K. Chesterton ?? If ever thou gavest hosen or shoonThen every night and allSit thou down and put them onAnd Christ receive thy soul This aye night, this aye nightEvery night and allFire and fleet and candlelightAnd Christ receive they soul If ever thou gavest meat or drinkThen every night and allThe fire shall never make thee shrinkAnd Christ receive thy soul —The Lyke Wake Dirge (traditional) ?? PROLOGUE The night before he went to London, Richard Mayhew was not enjoying himself. He had begun the evening by enjoying himself: he had enjoyed reading the good-bye cards, and receiving the hugs from several not entirely unattractive young ladies of his acquaintance; he had enjoyed the warnings about the evils and dangers of London, and the gift of the white umbrella with the map of the London Underground on it that his friends had chipped in money to buy; he had enjoyed the first few pints of ale; but then, with |
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