Lucy entered and Mike followed. A grimy, battered object, which had no place in the fashionable quarter of town. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. The young man's imagination suddenly pictured the man as a rock, loosed from its ancient bed, crumbling as it fell. The garrets were said to be tenanted by coiners, and artists employed in altering watches and jewelry; the cellars to be used as a magazine for stolen goods.
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