9. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. ‘Thought it was downright wicked to keep you ignorant of your proper background. I'll call it my wedding gift. Her lips parted, but no words came. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. Look! Is that some one coming out?” The front door of the flats stood open, and through it a woman, slim and veiled, passed on to the pavement and turned with swift footsteps in the opposite direction. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. So she married him.
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