" On a shelf was placed a row of paint-jars; the contents of which had been daubed in rainbow streaks upon the adjacent closet and window sill. But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. CHAPTER XVI. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. After all, that was life. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat.
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