It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. “It’s my fault. "Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. So am I. The prisoner breathed with difficulty.
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