"Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. "I had no hand in the affair," replied Jackson, bluntly; "but I know those who had; and could bring forward evidence, if you require it. Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti. They were really very fine and abundant, with a blaze of perennial sunflowers behind them.
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