All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. Wood's ornaments and wearing apparel, they prepared to depart. Who? Could it be Gerald? Quickly, she looked back at Gosse’s face, and found him frowning. O'Higgins. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. " "Perhaps, I wasn't," returned Thames, gloomily, as the remembrance of Jonathan Wild's foul insinuation crossed him.
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