Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. Lucy vomited onto the floor at the sight of her mother dying, the black spots expanding across her corpse. He went over her features one by one in his mind. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour.
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