There’s a hansom coming round the corner. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. And me, I know very much of soldiers. I don't care how lonesome it is. She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. This done, Edgeworth Bess, who watched her opportunity, slipped out of the Lodge. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose.
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