‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. Anna was singing as she used to sing. 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. I didn’t believe him and I said so. All her life Martha had been there. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. " "I see.
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