Wood, as, having seen the earth thrown over the remains of the unfortunate Mrs. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. "Never mind," replied the tapstress. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. .
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