He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. . ” She said. Your life is like a funeral March.
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