" As he said this, the carpenter patted the cheek of the little object of his benevolent professions, and, in so doing, unintentionally aroused him from his slumbers. At one moment, it seemed as if the flying bark was about to put to shore. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. The likeness was ridiculous. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. Certainly I would not murder monsieur le major, even that he has made a threat to beat me.
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