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Having seen him heavily ironed, and placed in the Condemned Hold, Jonathan recrossed the street. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. "I can't say," answered the fellow; "but I'll inquire from the sexton, William Morgan. I’m glad the old sore is assuaged. “You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. ‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years.
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