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In almost all the lodgings which we entered, with the landlord, Ivan Fedotitch, he said to us: "Here you need not write down the lodger's card yourself; there is a man here who can do it, if he only happens not to be intoxicated to-day." And Ivan Fedotitch called by name and patronymic this man, who was always one of those persons who had fallen from a lofty position.
The lodger's slim white hands and arched instep, the patrician curve of his aquiline nose, the perfect grace of his apparel, the high-bred modulation of his courteous accents, all these had impressed Mary Anne's tender little heart so much the more because of his poverty and loneliness.
Meanwhile, our lodger's habits continued precisely the same. If, indeed, the sounds which came from his apartments were to be trusted, he and his agents were more on the alert than ever.
"I'd like to, but I can't," said Carroll. "The fact is, I paid in advance for these rooms, and if I lived anywhere else I'd be losing five guineas a week on them." Miss Cavendish regarded him severely. She had never quite mastered his American humor. "But five guineas why, that's nothing to you," she said. Something in the lodger's face made her pause. "You don't mean "
Bunting" the lodger's voice had become softer, kinder in quality. "It always does me good to see the doctor," said Mrs. Bunting evasively. And then a very odd smile lit up Mr. Sleuth's face. "Doctors are a maligned body of men," he said. "I'm glad to hear you speak well of them. They do their best, Mrs. Bunting. Being human they are liable to err, but I assure you they do their best."
She went downstairs, with no foreboding save that the kettle would come off second best in the race between its boiling and her lodger's dressing. For she knew there was no fear of Arthur Constant's lying deaf to the call of Duty temporarily represented by Mrs. Drabdump. He was a light sleeper, and the tram-conductors' bells were probably ringing in his ears, summoning him to the meeting.
Sometimes one of the women sang, and the men sat in silence while the people in the street below stopped to listen, and would say, "Why, that is So-and-So singing," and the Lion and the Unicorn wondered how they could know who it was when they could not see her. The lodger's visitors came to see him at all hours.
A small lamp placed on the table threw a feeble yellow light on the squalid, ill-furnished room, for it lacked still an hour or so before dawn. Armand's concierge had brought her lodger's letter, and Marguerite had quickly despatched a brief reply to him, a reply that held love and also encouragement. Then she had summoned Sir Andrew.
Boche welcomed Lantier cordially. Gervaise stood by in silent bewilderment, watching them place the trunk in her lodger's room. Then hardly knowing what she said, she murmured: "We must take a glass of wine together " Lantier, who was busy untying the cords on his trunk, did not look up, and she added: "You will join us, Monsieur Boche!" And she went for some wine and glasses.
"I'd like to, but I can't," said Carroll. "The fact is, I paid in advance for these rooms, and if I lived anywhere else I'd be losing five guineas a week on them." Miss Cavendish regarded him severely. She had never quite mastered his American humor. "But five guineas why that's nothing to you," she said. Something in the lodger's face made her pause. "You don't mean "
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