Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. ‘Don’t concern yourself. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls. She could not go to him when it was apparent that he needed her beyond all other instances! What had caused this agony did not matter—then. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. It was the sing-song girl idea, magnified many diameters.
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