“Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. Rushing towards the entrance of the well-hole, Blueskin touched the secret spring. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. Alice was going to be Mrs. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband. And the opportunity to share in your exciting adventures was just too tempting to be put aside. From the further end of the apartment came the low music of a violin.
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