Wood, who appeared to be collecting her energies for a terrible explosion, "in the hope that they may prove acceptable. Such was the simple code that displayed itself in all his thoughts. "You poor child!" said Prudence. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me. A fever of shame ran through her being. .
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