F. Sheppard did not make her appearance quite so soon as he expected, the carpenter became a little fidgetty, and, having succeeded in tranquillizing the child, he thought proper to walk so far down the entry as would enable him to reconnoitre the upper windows of the house. “You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. One could go to him and tell him one loved him. There are cigarettes and magazines in the corner there. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse.
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