It was a clear, lovely, October morning. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. And this clear-visioned child had comprehended that only half the rogues were really ill. "I hope you don't imagine anything has gone wrong, Sir. Drawing a pistol, and unclosing his lantern with the quickness of thought, he then burst through an open trap-door into a small loft.
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