" "It was her own fault," observed Blueskin, moodily. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. Gold-handled, too. You must think it over. ” The young man accepted the letter and the message, and seemed about to close the door when a lady issued from one of the front rooms and intervened. " "Do you want me to tell her that I am grateful?" "Well, aren't you?" "I don't know; I really don't know.
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