“I do not think that he is quite dead. The streets were full of colour. " The lad made no answer, but left the room. While this was taking place, another and more serious interruption occurred. A black-garbed figure crept forward, noiselessly, towards Gosse’s back. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. On the stranger's appearance, she was seated near the window busily occupied with her needle. That had taken her by surprise, and her tired wits had failed her. She took up the poker and stirred the fire vigorously. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. I’ve got no feminine class feeling.
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