You are all that I am or hope to be—the celestial atom God put into me at the beginning. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. “Now,” he said, “no one can blunder in upon us. One or the other. "Where is he, then?" demanded the other, hastily. " "A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that," rejoined Wood. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered.
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