The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. Spurling. "This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black ribband from his breast, and giving it her,—"do you remember it?" "I do—I do!" cried Winifred. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. Probably she was married years ago and is now merely on the way to her husband's house. She arrived about nine o’clock the next evening in a state of tremulous enthusiasm. Heaven alone knows why. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual.
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