Wood, at Dollis Hill —" "Let me have one," said a carpenter, who was passing by at the moment,—"Mr. ” Lucy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. Meanwhile, she was spirited away from John and bombarded by half-familiar people who attempted to chat with her above the roar of the crowd. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. ” Mr.
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