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I might as well be at Morningside Park. Ah Cum, sensing the difficulty, approached, recovered the damp handkerchief and returned it. “He spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. So I come suppliant.
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