If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. “I wonder if there is!” said Capes, and paused, and then bent down over the boy who wore his hair like Russell. I don’t feel it. They stood back together and stared at it. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. It was a mass of knick-knacks. "His wife is still living," returned Kneebone, drily.
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