The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. Wood. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. I'll dig it up. Having made a tolerably good meal upon the loaf, overcome by fatigue, Jack turned into a barn in Stoke Newington, and slept till late in the day, when he awakened much refreshed. " "What for? What do you want of them?" "Why, they are … yours. “It is very, very difficult,” she continued, looking steadfastly at the ground.
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