The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. There will be a world that exists after this Pestilence, and for you, it will mean the wealth from those you extend your current generosity to. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. ‘Move, you.
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