And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. There was. Horrible details recurred to her. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. "Why not?" "I'll tell you," cried a deep voice from the back of the bed. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice.
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