By and by the tramp of horses' feet was heard slowly ascending Snow Hill, and presently a troop of grenadier guards rode into the area facing Newgate. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. There was some one there. His eyes were closed. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. “Bless you, sweetheart. For this three weeks had been the hardest of her life.
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