‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. “As if it could possibly matter what such a person thinks of you. Rowland felt himself sinking beneath the powerful grasp of his enemy. With a rustle of her full lilac petticoats, Miss Froxfield turned back to Alderley. His pulses beat fast as he walked, his feet fell lightly upon the pavement. But if God is kind to me, someday I may climb up to where you are. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown.
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