“Please stop by. Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. Capes and her father stood up, and her father made a belated movement toward the curtain. They were filthy after the burial. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors. Immediately beneath the pulpit stood a large circular pew where malefactors under sentence of death sat to hear the condemned sermon delivered to them, and where they formed a public spectacle to the crowds, which curiosity generally attracted on those occasions. “There I can’t help,” said Capes. "It looks as though, we should go together," he said, pulling her toward him. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly.
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