The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. And see!" he added, as the figures drew back, and the lights disappeared; "it's a false alarm. You, Anna, are one of them.
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