"Who, then?" demanded Jack. This left Spurlock alone. They struck her as cold and indifferent. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. Anna jumped into a waiting hansom. The clergyman, meanwhile, proceeded with the service, while the coffin was deposited at the brink of the grave. She was quite a beauty, all in white, and I can still see how much you resemble her. "It's better," observed Sheppard, meaningly.
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