In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. They stopped talking, except to each other. 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. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. “Have you dropped from the skies?” Sydney asked wonderingly.
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