" Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. Is there anything you want?" She laid her hand on his forehead, and found it without fever. “Yes. “Rubbish!” he answered. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. But no; she must step warily.
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