While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork. Your sister! Great God, how like she is to what you were!β Annabel looked around her nervously. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. Not a word passed between them. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. Mr. β βAnd leave you here alone?β he asked, in a hoarse whisper.
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