This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. My janizaries are without. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. She donned her gloves. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand.
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