. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. He trembled, not from any superstitious dread, but from an undefined sense of approaching danger. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. Dear me! if there isn't his knock.
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