" "Why how's this?" exclaimed Jonathan. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. Other girls gathered around like sheep. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. This obstacle removed, he thought he might now make the attempt. ’ ‘It is true,’ insisted the lady. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm. The marriage cannot—shall not be delayed. "No; I don't think I'd laugh. The deafening report froze time. When I'm alone I don't mind. “Really,” she said.
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