When they got to the door, Jack opened it, and, mimicking the voice of the jailer, shouted, "Now, my lads, all's ready?" "Here we are," cried the chairmen, hurrying out of the court with their swinging vehicle, "where is he?" "Here," replied Sheppard, dragging out Shotbolt by the collar, while Blueskin pushed him behind, and Mrs. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. She'll be mighty interesting to watch. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken.
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