As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. His age was not far from fifty. . She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. He was so depressed and disheartened that he did not then believe he would ever write again. ‘You know about that?’ ‘It was the only possible deduction. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. She came in while he was still in the throes, conviction battling with commonsense, his own apprehension. I found a blue stone on the beach once.
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