You mustn't go dressing up Tom, Dick, and Harry in Henry Esmond's ruffles. “My God!” he said again. ” “It’s scandalous, but I suppose it is. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Sebastian's arms were about her, his fists pumping her stomach as she coughed forth saltwater from her belly and lungs. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. "In this pit," he added, pointing to the chasm below, "your brother is buried.
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