The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. ‘Is that why you allowed me in, ma’am?’ A dimple appeared in the faded cheek. “I would not have you go for anything,” she answered. 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.
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