'" "Let me see," cried Jack, snatching the paper, and eagerly perusing the advertisement. ‘That way. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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