Them young prigs is all alike. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. And you see, I don’t turn my back, and I am looking at you and thinking about you from top to toe. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry.
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