Soldiers were stationed at different points of the street to keep off the mob, and others were riding backwards and forwards to maintain an open space for the passage of the procession. " "You don't say so!" exclaimed Shotbolt. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. She paused for a moment. Before I met you I never met any one whom I felt I could love, but you have discovered depths in my own nature I had scarcely suspected.
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