"Don't alarm yourself. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. Sepulchre's clock struck eight. He stopped before her suddenly. “That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured. “I like to think of your offer. Gave me a purse, and told me to take both of ’em up to Harwich and put them on a packet for Holland. I want to know who sent you those. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. ‘Do not beg my pardon.
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