If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. " "Then you are hurt," cried the carpenter in alarm.
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