She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully.
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