"There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. Brute! Fool! To have come to her on such an errand. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. The doctor would naturally offer a hundred objections; he might seriously interfere; so he must be forestalled. Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants.
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