He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. " "A day of retribution will assuredly arrive," rejoined Mrs. Ennison’s acquaintance. Hill sat up on the pavement and mopped the blood from his cheek. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors.
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