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Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street. He could not possibly lunge in the confined space, and so had nothing to do but back himself into the chapel as fast as he could. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well. But there was a face pressed to the glass. But you! Why the devil did you marry her? That's the thing that confounds me. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel.
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