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Prepared as he was for a dreadful shock, and with his nerves strung to endure it, Jack absolutely recoiled before the appalling object that met his gaze. ” Annabel leaned back in her chair and laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay. The Procession to Tyburn. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. "Because it's not like you," was her answer.
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