Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill. She is no longer mine; she is yours. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends.
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