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from Brown Corpus
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After Mr. Jack drove away, Winston went on looking out the window.
He noticed a speck of dirt on the sill and swiped at it with his finger.
Then he looked at his finger, at the wrinkled, heavy knuckle and the thick nail he used like a knife to pry up, slit, and open.
For the first time, he be sad about the move.
That house was ten years off his life let himself.
Each brass handle and hinge shone for his reward, and he knew how to get at the dust in the china flowers and how to take down the long glass drops which hung from the chandelier.
He knew the house like a blind man, through his fingers, and he did not like to think of all the time and rags and polishes he had spent on keeping it up.

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