The by now familiar dramatic sigh came. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. Mr. Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored. "Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened. Here he was hotly pursued.
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