" "To-morrow will be too late," replied the widow, in a hollow voice, "I feel it will. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. ‘Aye, sir. Her patience was waning fast. Without hindrance—present occupation. For a moment she thought of saying yes, and then filled with shame. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water.
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