1 She seemed uncanny and fateful.
2 All this talk seemed to me so futile.
3 And yet it seemed to throw a kind of light.
4 She seemed to know all about them and about me too.
5 The sun was fierce, the land seemed to glisten and drip with steam.
6 But even at these times the rest of his person seemed to disclaim the intention.
7 In that way only it seemed to me I could keep my hold on the redeeming facts of life.
8 To the left a clump of trees made a shady spot, where dark things seemed to stir feebly.
9 Some, I heard, got drowned in the surf; but whether they did or not, nobody seemed particularly to care.
10 Afterwards nobody seemed to trouble much about Fresleven's remains, till I got out and stepped into his shoes.
11 My purpose was to stroll into the shade for a moment; but no sooner within than it seemed to me I had stepped into a gloomy circle of some Inferno.
12 He was speedily reassured, and with a large, white, rascally grin, and a glance at his charge, seemed to take me into partnership in his exalted trust.
13 The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth.
14 I let him run on, this papier-mache Mephistopheles, and it seemed to me that if I tried I could poke my forefinger through him, and would find nothing inside but a little loose dirt, maybe.
15 I listened, I listened on the watch for the sentence, for the word, that would give me the clew to the faint uneasiness inspired by this narrative that seemed to shape itself without human lips in the heavy night-air of the river.
16 In the offing the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits.
17 The idleness of a passenger, my isolation amongst all these men with whom I had no point of contact, the oily and languid sea, the uniform somberness of the coast, seemed to keep me away from the truth of things, within the toil of a mournful and senseless delusion.
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