The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. “Martin, I don’t know what to say. She hoped that Shari would not be too brokenhearted about her disappearance. Sheppard, whose distress at the consumption of the provisions had been somewhat allayed by the anticipation of the intruder's departure after he had satisfied his appetite, was now terrified in the extreme by seeing a light approach, and hearing footsteps on the stairs. It was Celeste’s idea.
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