. . Leonardo he was my—’ ‘Don’t say it,’ Gerald cut in hoarsely. That he was hot and breathless was of no matter; in that moment he would have faced a dozen Samsons. Having read the three first verses of the impressive service appointed for the burial of the dead, he returned to the church, whither the coffin was carried through the south-western door, and placed in the centre of the aisle—Mr.
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