" At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. Returning to the audience-chamber in a by-no-means enviable state of mind, he commanded the Jew to throw the body of Thames into the Well Hole. She did not have the power of men. The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. Opening a pair of large black eyes, the child fixed them for an instant upon Wood, and then, alarmed by the light, uttered a low and melancholy cry, which, however, was speedily stilled by the caresses of his mother, towards whom he extended his tiny arms, as if imploring protection. The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. “But Julian, we don’t even know each other!” She exclaimed.
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