” “What do you mean—by too late?” he demanded. Mr. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages.
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