Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road. "A hundred pounds!" exclaimed Shotbolt. ‘Tee-ree-sa. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. “Your coffee’s too good to refuse. "There he is!" cried Winifred, starting up, joyfully, and proving by the exclamation that her thoughts were dwelling upon one subject only.
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