" CHAPTER XIII. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. "Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die," observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;—a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent. ‘But I ain’t been idle, miss, I swear it. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet.
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