He was therefore obliged to use the iron bar, which he did with as much caution as circumstances would permit. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. "Well?" he whispered. If you had arrived ten minutes later, or if there hadn't been an iron bar in the chimney, that hindered my progress, I should have been beyond your reach. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. "Insult you! not I;" returned Figg.
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