Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. ‘That is the man who tries to kill me, but he wounded instead my servant. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew. “We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage.
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