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Stanley, in his effort to seem at ease, took entire possession of the hearthrug. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities.
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