Nobody who cared. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. ‘I have Joan to tell me how much I look like Mary. How did you get your luggage out of the house? Wasn’t it—wasn’t it rather in some respects—rather a lark? It’s one of my regrets for my lost youth. Blueskin goes with me. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate.
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