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He had been occupied in tearing Nicholas’s letter into atoms;
and as he spoke, he scattered it in a tiny shower about him.
‘Recollections like these,’ pursued Ralph, with a bitter smile,
‘flock upon me--when I resign myself to them--in crowds, and
from countless quarters. As a portion of the world affect to despise
the power of money, I must try and show them what it is.’
And being, by this time, in a pleasant frame of mind for
slumber, Ralph Nickleby went to bed.