" Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth. He was waiting in the outer hall as she tiptoed in. . And yet he knew clearly and definitely what he purposed to do, what the future would be.
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