A single false step might have precipitated him into the street; or, if he had trodden upon an unsound part of the roof, he must have fallen through it. Except that this music we have been swimming in is divine. It’s Providence. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. They’re all wonderful cooks. Were it not for your voice, I don't think I should know you.
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