“You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. I waited until he was asleep and then I tied him up with some duct tape and some old rope he had in the shed. Keep his arms down. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice. The man, who was just able to move, pointed towards Giltspur-street. He'll mend, I hope. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said.
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