This queer father of hers had given her everything but his arms. Wood. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. "And so I want the boy out of the way," he concluded. Miss Mary being his only child ’an all, he were in a right pelter. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation.
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