’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors. Still —there you are!” He paused. I——” Then he stopped short, for he began to remember things. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets.
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