Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. " "No fear of that," laughed Kneebone. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. ’ ‘In any event,’ Gerald told her, with a grin, ‘I can’t marry this one.
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