Her fingers found the lump she sought and, with a little effort, she dragged out the black-wrapped foil. It was a purse. It was still profoundly dark; but the wind, which had begun to blow with some violence, chased the clouds rapidly across the heavens, and dispersed the vapours hanging nearer the earth. She had heard Alice talking and crying at the same time, a painful noise. Through all this flutter of novelty there came and went a solicitous, preoccupied, almost depressed figure. Wild on his guard against an assassin.
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