The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art. “It’s not. It was perfectly legitimate. “The fellow seems to know your name, Miss Pellissier, and that you have lived in Paris. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead.
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