She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. She tipped his mouth towards her own and kissed him. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. "But what, may I ask, arouses the thought?" The doctor was in high good humour. "They say her son's taken at last, and is to be hanged.
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