When she had finished the first tale, there was a sense of disappointment. Wood fancied he heard the exulting laugh of Jonathan Wild. "Do better in future. He had often read about it, and once he had incorporated it in a story, that invisible force which sent men to prison and to the gallows, when a tongue controlled would have meant liberty indefinite. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books.
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