Treading with noiseless step over the soft mould, they soon reached the building. “We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage. As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side.
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