She looked around her. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. “I’m really very sorry. But the wench who tricked me shall bitterly repent it. " "The Black Lion!" echoed Terence.
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