He stumbled slightly, the limp in his leg still there. He dared not to look at the place he used to call home. He could feel the heat from the fire, the fire that he himself had ignited. He blinked back tears, as he limped away.
“And how shall I think of you?' He considered a moment and then laughed. 'Think of me with my nose in a book!” — Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
