The advanced guard rode on to drive away any opposition, while the main body of the procession crossed the bridge, and slowly toiled up Holborn Hill. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression.
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