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. The little matter of an accent may be misleading, I grant you, but —’ He was interrupted, and with impatience. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts. "You're a bold fellow, Jack," rejoined the blacksmith.
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