"Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. I shall not let you go till I am quite sure. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. Kneebone, he took his departure.
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