"My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. For a time they walked in silence. Sepulchre's. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored. .
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