" "By my soul, no," replied Jonathan, with affected sincerity. Stories … love stories: and to-morrow she would know the joy of reading them! It was almost unbelievable; it was too good to be true. . . Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. “Now I should like to know,” she said, looking at him with a quiet smile, “what you are doing here? It is not a particularly inspiring neighbourhood for walking about by yourself. . She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. You are too kind. Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth.
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