“Maybe I should have stayed home. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled.
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