“I”—he seemed to have a difficulty with the word—“I love you. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement. In lieu of the substantial habitations which he had gazed on overnight, he beheld a row of falling scaffoldings, for such they seemed. Out of all this we have struck a sort of harmony.
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