Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. She had never been able to discover where her father had hidden his shaving mirror. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. A nod was exchanged. "Give it me," returned the carpenter; "all's safe. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London.
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