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"Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled. You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child. She opened this and scrambled out—a thing she had not done for five long years of adolescence— upon the leaded space above the built-out bath-room on the first floor. You hurt the child. “Please stop fighting me. Do you know how late it is?” She nodded.

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