The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art. “I don’t have time for this. There was barely room for one, let alone two, in the passage, and Melusine ended up backwards, supporting Jack as best she could as he stumbled along, grasping the rough walls on either side with both hands. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. A young man was playing the banjo.
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