But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. ’ It took several frustrating moments, working at the protrusions of the carving down the side of the bookshelves, tugging at leaves, pushing at flowers. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. From the sounds of it, he was better off dead.
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