" "Then you are hurt," cried the carpenter in alarm. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. He was standing at the moment close to the hatch, with his ear at the keyhole, and received a severe blow in the face.
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