On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish.
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