” “Young? I am twenty-four. “Slavery! Downtroddenness! When I think of it I feel all over boot marks— men’s boots. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. Drink, and no sustaining food.
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