" "A boy from his shop was here a short time ago. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up. It was still profoundly dark; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship. Still he had a decent look, and decidedly the air of one well-to-do in the world. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt. ” She paused. He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. .
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