"Patience Kite has lured him to Enfield on a false scent after Blueskin. I mean Miss Charvill no harm. “There’s no end of things I’d like to talk over with you. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well. I trust you will not accuse me of discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie apart.
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