Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill. There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side. ‘That is my mother. And empty. I don't know whose brainless head it may be, but it'll do for my collection. ‘Well, she’d better learn fast if she wants any truck with me.
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