The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. She gasped with pain, but she did not release her grip. They are all at prayer at this hour.
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