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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"The Mystery of Edwin Drood"


She has leaned forward to say it in his ear, with her forefinger
shaking before his eyes, and now huddles herself together, and with
another 'Bless ye, and thank'ee!' goes away in the direction of the
Travellers' Lodging House.
This is not an inspiriting close to a dull day. Alone, in a
sequestered place, surrounded by vestiges of old time and decay, it
rather has a tendency to call a shudder into being. He makes for
the better-lighted streets, and resolves as he walks on to say
nothing of this to-night, but to mention it to Jack (who alone
calls him Ned), as an odd coincidence, to-morrow; of course only as
a coincidence, and not as anything better worth remembering.
Still, it holds to him, as many things much better worth
remembering never did. He has another mile or so, to linger out
before the dinner-hour; and, when he walks over the bridge and by
the river, the woman's words are in the rising wind, in the angry
sky, in the troubled water, in the flickering lights. There is
some solemn echo of them even in the Cathedral chime, which strikes
a sudden surprise to his heart as he turns in under the archway of
the gatehouse.
And so HE goes up the postern stair.
John Jasper passes a more agreeable and cheerful day than either of
his guests. Having no music-lessons to give in the holiday season,
his time is his own, but for the Cathedral services. He is early
among the shopkeepers, ordering little table luxuries that his
nephew likes.


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