"Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. She was as pale as death, but she seemed to have lost the power of movement. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. ‘I thought—I thought I saw my—my husband.
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