To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. "He can't get out. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church.
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