Then enter Mr. The assemblage was for the most part, if not altogether, composed of persons to whom vice in all its aspects was too familiar to present much of novelty, in whatever form it was exhibited. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. After that night she made it a habit.
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