She was shaking violently when she entered the side door of the house. "Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack. "Captain," he cried, in a voice of the bitterest anguish, "have these dogs again hunted you down? If you hadn't been so unlucky, I should have been with you before to-morrow night. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. I somehow understood. "What do you want with me?" "A word in private," replied the other. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. She stepped backwards.
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