He knew she had been weeping. She drank it obediently. “Before you do anything else I should advise you to secure those charred fragments of paper from the grate. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own.
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