” “Right!” he answered. The door closed softly upon her. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. It was John Diedermayer, who had been transformed into a young scholar with a large pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses on. That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely.
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