They're only just gone, mercy on us! what a clatter," she added, as the knocking was repeated more violently than before. It would have been better had he succeeded in murdering her, she thought. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson. The knowledge breathed into her heart a satisfying warmth. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. Below it a prodigiously large bolt was shot into the socket, and, in order to keep it there, was fastened by a hasp, and further protected by an immense padlock. “I didn’t think you’d come.
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