" "Proceed, Sir," said Trenchard, breathing hard. ” It was her last evening in that wrappered life against which she had rebelled. "Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them. Wood's astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased. Getting back the ice was rather a serious affair. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered.
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