"What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. "We're forgetting," he said. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. With the extra seventy-five pounds she had put after birthing her final son, Steven, her knees weren’t in good shape to be running up and down stairs all day. As soon as she reached this spot, Wild sprang ashore, and was joined by several persons, —among whom was Quilt Arnold, leading a horse by the bridle,—he hastened down the stairs to meet him. Inside was the blue stone she had lost in the 1800’s. ‘It is pretty. In olden days it boasted a chapel, dedicated to Saint Thomas; beneath which there was a crypt curiously constructed amid the arches, where "was sepultured Peter the Chaplain of Colechurch, who began the Stone Bridge at London:" and it still boasted an edifice (though now in rather a tumbledown condition) which had once vied with a palace,—we mean Nonesuch House.
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