Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. ‘Open the door, fool!’ Then he had Melusine by the shoulders and was hustling her into the hackney. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. “I am going to fetch some things that will be wanted if he pulls through the next hour. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. “Child!” he cried.
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