In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. “I will not be drawn into a conversation with Mr. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. My trouble is with your sister. Mr. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. Unlocking it, he entered the chamber, which by no means belied its external appearance.
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