The entrance of the house 85 was grand, and upon entering she was immediately greeted by John’s mother, a tall, thin woman quite a few years older than Cathy Beck. On the way home he was still thoughtful. The service began. Spurlock felt very well pleased with himself. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top.
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