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A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. “He will find it difficult no doubt to alter his style of living,” she said. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise. "My demeanour ought to convince you that I came with no hostile intention. And I wish you all the happiness in the world. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict.
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