The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. Two persons possessing a more comfortable stock of assurance could not be readily found. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. The garrets were said to be tenanted by coiners, and artists employed in altering watches and jewelry; the cellars to be used as a magazine for stolen goods. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. Old Newgate. I just suppose it isn’t worth the trouble.
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