Loved his memory still, for all he knew. ” “That is provokingly indefinite,” he answered, a little ruefully. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. Lucy did not want to have to kill the mother, as she hated more than anything to kill women, no matter what their sins. More strange stories were told of it than of any other house in London.
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