It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. As the woollendraper's back was towards him, he did not perceive him, but continued his passionate addresses. As he gazed down into the courts of the prison, he could not help shuddering, lest a false step might precipitate him below. Nuns, I mean. I can’t even carry a tune with a bucket. ‘I agree with you. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. . And when I have finished killing your major, I shall also kill you.
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