The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. This intelligence, which she instantly communicated to the carpenter, drove him almost frantic. . She guessed that he probably slept all of three hours a night at most. There was nothing to be got out of the man. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. She forced herself not to think of John.
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