3. And so Winifred understood him. "'You've a long journey before you. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. ’ With pretty imperiousness, she gestured to the bed beside her. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. It was you, of course, whom he wanted. She fidgeted and looked away. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE.
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