Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. “Stuffy these trees make the Avenue,” said Mr. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls.
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