Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. ” She replied.
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