We can be married tomorrow in Paris. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly.
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