She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. Their flitting hands were always touching. Their subsequent conversation is outside the scope of our story. But I mean to have them.
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