But with returning breath came returning vociferations; and the carpenter, with a faint hope of lessening the clamour by change of scene, took up his lantern, opened the door, and walked out. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. ” Again that curious smile which puzzled him so much parted her lips for a moment.
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