“What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. Wood, (for I never do anything without consulting my better half,) I'll take the boy, educate him, and bring him up to my own business of a carpenter. She hastened past. Fetter Lane, on the left, Gray's Inn, on the right, added their supplies. . "I generally do," replied Blueskin, pouring out a bumper of sack. " "All right.
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