The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red Room, that it was with some difficulty he could find the blanket which was almost buried beneath the pile. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft. But that title he would not endure. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. It was for ever.
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