He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor.
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