As he took his departure, he whispered to the Jew: "Take him dead or alive; but if we fail now, and you heard him aright in Seacoal Lane, we are sure of him at his mother's funeral on Sunday. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued.
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