It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. What was his transport on perceiving that a few yards above him a light was burning. Had she said the words aloud? He pulled her close and she nuzzled her head on his chest. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. “John,” she said, “I can spare you that question. You're a queer lad.
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