What was his transport on perceiving that a few yards above him a light was burning. "Married!—no—no," replied the woollen-draper. Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady. Mr. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated.
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