At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed. The place was pockmarked with window-like holes everywhere—people were always 138 falling into them and breaking bones--it was for these lookouts why she had chosen it. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing.
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