"Not my king's," returned Wood. ” It was certain that he was not there. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. His apparel was sumptuous in the extreme, and such as was only worn by persons of the highest distinction. ” He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the shops and people. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. Wood, meantime, had not remained idle.
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