We fixed that. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. Lady Trafford, supposed to be childless, broken in health and spirits, frail both in mind and body, is not likely to make another marriage.
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