Then the dagger’s point came in a whirling arc towards his face. Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. She would be enduing this chap with attributes he did not possess, clothing him in fictional ruffles. Only her babe died. He's worth a dozen of you. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. 'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'.
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