He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. "I cannot—will not suffer you to remain here. “You are really a good Samaritan,” she declared. "Always plenty to spare. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. “We don’t let to ladies,” they said.
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