On a small shelf near the foot of the bed stood a couple of empty phials, a cracked ewer and basin, a brown jug without a handle, a small tin coffee-pot without a spout, a saucer of rouge, a fragment of looking-glass, and a flask, labelled "Rosa Solis. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. But, I'll expose him. They've paid for their lodging. “You see the pointer?” he asked. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping.
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