"He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. " The air in the narrow street, which was not eight feet wide, swarmed with smells impossible to define; but all at once the pleasantly pungent odour of Chinese incense drifted across the girl's face, and gratefully she quickened her inhalations. These sham ideals and advanced notions. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. " And he proceeded to unfold his scheme to the woollen-draper.
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