‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. Traversing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found themselves in Kendrick Yard. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. “I don’t think she will,” she said.
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