” He sat for a moment, absorbing. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. But the wench who tricked me shall bitterly repent it. Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. I don’t play anything.
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