‘That’s why I’m asking. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was that it had rather a light way with parental rights.
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