Ennison spoke at last. Returning to the churchyard, he walked round it; and on the western side, near a small yew-tree discovered a new-made grave. "What?… Oh!… Well, good Lord!" He wrenched loose his head and stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. ‘You won’t get a thing out of her. Neither you nor your mother shall escape me. But I know a little place where we’ll get a little quiet talk.
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