The Night-Cellar. Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue. Burn your palette and your easel.
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