I have it about me. " CHAPTER IV. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead.
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