In spite of the tumultuous joy which agitated him, the bridegroom could not prevent the intrusion of some saddening thoughts, as he reflected upon the melancholy scene which he had so recently witnessed in the same place. A small brickbat was thrown, which struck Jonathan in the face. “Eight, Cavendish Square. ” Her hand hung over the side of her chair nearest to him. “Look round the table,” she said.
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