“Come,” he continued, “the world after all is a very small place. God would have taken mercy on her baby, seeing that she had already had too much pain and that he had taken her beloved mother. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs.
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