The Goopes were the oddest little couple conceivable, following a fruitarian career upon an upper floor in Theobald’s Road. The progress of time was marked in Mr. He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. Wood as a play-room to the two boys; and, like most boy's playrooms, it exhibited a total absence of order, or neatness. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question. Even Mike can make a pretty tasty hamburger. Plote was sleeping or deaf.
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