Prudence attacked her chicken wing. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. Old Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the cooking till he’s black in the face, but he never misses a dinner. Her skin prickled. "There's a guinea to drink our health," she added, slipping a piece of money into his hand. . ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday. His mother's scream seemed again to ring in his ears, and he was so deeply affected that, fearful of exciting attention, he was about to quit the sacred edifice, when he was stopped by the entrance of Thames, who looked pale as death, with Winifred leaning on his arm.
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