“He’s got good taste, you know. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad roof, immediately in front of him. He was in the house with his mother. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window.
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