The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. I borrowed forty pounds from Mr. I’ve bored you or something. So long as they're about, I'll always be rewriting them and wasting my time. They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. " "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly.
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