She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. In doing so, he had to clamber up the immense heap of bricks and rubbish which now littered the floor, amounting almost to a car-load, and reaching up nearly to the top of the chimney-piece. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. It doesn’t seem to matter. I am already too much flattered that you should have given me your confidence. “That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. " Sir Rowland's brow darkened.
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