“Annabel!” she exclaimed. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. ’ Her lashes fluttered. The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. ” She smiled at him, an understanding smile, but her words defied him.
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