The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. "Is she married?" he asked, after a brief pause. . And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. . " The order was promptly obeyed.
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