"Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. Michelle had begged her to do it. Wait a little; rest. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. "My God! will you see your child strangled before your eyes, and not so much as scream for help?" said Wood, staring at the widow with a look of surprise and horror.
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