You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. After all a thousand pounds is a trifle to rid you of an upstart, who may chance to deprive you of tens of thousands. " "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. It is useless to contend with him, even with right on your side. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart.
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