Martha

           WewerenowdowninWestminster.Wehadturnedbacktofollowher,havingencounteredhercomingtowardsus;andWestminsterAbbeywasthepointatwhichshepassedfromthelightsandnoiseoftheleadingstreets.Sheproceededsoquickly,whenshegotfreeofthetwocurrentsofpassengerssettingtowardsandfromthebridge,that,betweenthisandtheadvanceshehadofuswhenshestruckoff,wewereinthenarrowwater-sidestreetbyMillbankbeforewecameupwithher.Atthatmomentshecrossedtheroad,asiftoavoidthefootstepsthatsheheardsoclosebehind;and,withoutlookingback,passedonevenmorerapidly.

           Aglimpseoftheriverthroughadullgateway,wheresomewaggonswerehousedforthenight,seemedtoarrestmyfeet.Itouchedmycompanionwithoutspeaking,andwebothforboretocrossafterher,andbothfollowedonthatoppositesideoftheway;keepingasquietlyaswecouldintheshadowofthehouses,butkeepingverynearher.

           Therewas,andiswhenIwrite,attheendofthatlow-lyingstreet,adilapidatedlittlewoodenbuilding,probablyanobsoleteoldferry-house.Itspositionisjustatthatpointwherethestreetceases,andtheroadbeginstoliebetweenarowofhousesandtheriver.Assoonasshecamehere,andsawthewater,shestoppedasifshehadcometoherdestination;andpresentlywentslowlyalongbythebrinkoftheriver,lookingintentlyatit.

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Roboto Lora
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