The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. "Your ladyship is far too unwell to travel," remarked the female attendant, assisting her to rise; "you'll never be able to reach Manchester. Wild has given you some employment, Mr. Jack may be capable of much that is wicked, but he would never lift his hand against his friend,—of that I am assured. Wood sank, submissively, into a chair, while his daughter hastened to execute her arbitrary parent's commission. ’ ‘But—’ ‘You’ll get her all over blood again. But, no.
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