It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. She shook her head. She could now see to read; so she stirred the manuscript about until she came upon the first page. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts.
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