Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. Mr. . An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. . Arriving at the chapel, their wonder increased. CHAPTER VI.
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