” She taunted. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. They are our food, Lucia, nothing more. Take that box, and put it into the carriage yourself. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over. “Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. "Pah! He's a fool. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches.
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