"I had a terrible dream last night. The chapel was again crowded with visitors, and every eye—even that of Jonathan Wild who had come thither to deride him,—was fixed upon him. The release was so great that she felt tears spring from her eyes. “Do you understand what I am talking about? It’s no good if you don’t. ’ ‘You mean Valade? Don’t be downhearted. "Now stand before me, Poll. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul.
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