Grimly Hilary smiled to himself at the effect of Gerald’s name. "I'm afraid we'll have to dig into his trunk," he said. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. 'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'.
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