“I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. I shall have no faith in future in bolts and bars. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. I will take you for thirty-five shillings a week.
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