" At the door of this tavern, which was situated on the left of the street, not more than a hundred yards distant from the church, the bell of which began to toll as soon as the procession came in sight, the cart drew up, and the whole cavalcade halted. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. " "I am calm—quite calm, Rowland," she answered, with lips whose agitation belied her words. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. “Endless. She breathed deeply, and he breathed sympathetically.
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