Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother. "She has flown up stairs," replied the widow. ” She said. That is what stands between us, if you would know—that. " "Not for worlds!" exclaimed both ladies together. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. Wood, furiously. . She looked at him curiously. Wood will be here presently. What she had termed illuminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mystery which enveloped the child.
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