Kneebone's. Humph. “Well?” he asked her tersely. "Besides, lad, even an advertisement of a cough-drop is something to read. You see, I’m separated from my wife. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. You have the ideas. Poor little one. A handy knife, and a good tot of something sharp to clean out the wound. I do not know. "Ay, indeed! And who may that be?" inquired his wife.
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