‘Odd sort of a nun. My heart fails me. Wood," returned Jackson, with the utmost composure; "you're a headborough, and a loyal subject of King George. She felt like a dried-up old woman. What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls.
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