“This is the slavery of the veiled life. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. 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. “How shall I get my luggage out of the house?. " "Are you a real nurse?" "Yes. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all.
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