It'll be your own fault if you don't soon get another and a proper young man into the bargain. Then she called a hansom and drove home. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. “How are you feeling?” She asked. The chapel was again crowded with visitors, and every eye—even that of Jonathan Wild who had come thither to deride him,—was fixed upon him.
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