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It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up. Shouting to his companion, even as they passed by where I hid myself, he called out that he thought to find you at the convent. It was not possible. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. This person was speedily followed by half a dozen others, some of whom carried flambeaux. "Hell's curses!" roared Jonathan. He remembered it suddenly. But eventually Spurlock laughed.
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