Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. He had almost forced himself upon her one night after a particularly bloody raid of a thatched cottage. " "You need not," replied Jack, in a tone of the deepest compunction. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. There is only Gerald to see me, after all.
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