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They were heavy curtains, reaching almost to the ground, and the light that filtered through them was subdued and varied.
As she went out of the room, Becky turned upon the threshold and looked about her with devouring eyes.
The mender of roads, blue cap in hand, wiped his swarthy forehead with it, and said, "Where shall I commence, monsieur?"
"Why?" said the old man, with both fists on the table.
