. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. ” Brendon rushed to the piano and strummed out a tune. She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel.
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