The discussion wandered, and was punctuated with bread and butter. You know, I’ve done no work at all this afternoon. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. " But she did not complete the thought aloud. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. 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. "How so?" asked Wild, curiously. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace. Let me lie in Willesden churchyard.
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