But I'm not worrying about that. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. I did think it could be done. Well, well; all he himself could do would be to watch this singular drama unroll. I wouldn't accept my life from him.
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