“My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. " Blueskin nodded, and left the room. This moment couldn’t be better until the next moment comes. He entered the room with his usual deliberation, and looked covertly about him. So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object. He got up. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. “You must send for the police at once, you know.
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