" Her utterance was here choked by sobs. This, Wood, acting upon Terry's caution, was most unwilling to do; but, finding he had no alternative, he reluctantly made known his errand and the bolts were undrawn. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. Many knew Diane’s disdain for the Beck family as well, “who would take in any stray that arrived mewling at their doorstep.
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