“I have come for an explanation,” she said. A fierce struggle ensued. “Wise! Kind! What mockery words are! I came because I had to. My arm's nearly well again. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. . And, lastly, there's Mr. " "Wrong? What the devil could be wrong?" McClintock had demanded, irascibly. Be a sport, and pile it all on me!" He went to bed. ” He resumed, after a mouthful: “Here is a girl of sixteen or seventeen, seventeen and a half to be exact, running about, as one might say, in London. Wood. And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees.
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