“How’s Mrs. ” She found it difficult to begin thinking, and indeed she was anything but clear what it was she had to think about. She decided to leave this matter until the morrow and devote the morning to settling up with Mr. gutenberg. “She”, you say. And that’s why I’m at your service. She had to think of something fast, or her reaction would start to make believers out of everyone. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. Don't unman him. I pledged my thumb that, dead or alive, I'd pay the wager if I lost; and I should like to be as good as my word. ” She turned away. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. He looked at her in some embarrassment.
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