He jumped back, cursing. "Did I hear you …" began McClintock. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. Good-bye, aunt. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury.
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