You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. She waited expectantly. The carpenter well knew from the obstacle which had interfered with his own progress, that the unknown could not have passed through the same lock as himself. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries.
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