Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. “The twins were left with his sister, Cris. I killed him, Nigel. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER.
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