Without a single ornament about her neck, or hair, wearing the plainest of black gowns, out of which her shoulders shone gleaming white, she was easily the most noticeable and the most distinguished-looking woman in the room. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen. A small brickbat was thrown, which struck Jonathan in the face. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials.
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