The pavement had been hastily picked up, and heaped across the end of the street, upon which planks, barrels, and other barricades, were laid. She opened and read it at once. It had been discussed in silence. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. “Dear John,” she whispered.
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