"I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. 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. An influence of this description appeared to be exerted on the present occasion. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. Why didn’t he die?” Anna sprang to her feet and walked restlessly up and down the room.
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