"O, Lord!" ejaculated Wood. You did not say a word about it last week, nor have you written. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. "You're not hurt I hope, Sir Rowland?" inquired this individual. Behind Mrs. Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise. Suddenly she understood. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short.
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