Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. “Mr. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. ” He spoke a little nervously. “Call me Annabel. "I eat for both. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. "You are free," said he, "that grating forms a ladder, by which you may descend in safety.
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