There was a recurrence of fever, but nothing alarming. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. I’m sorry to hurt your feelings. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. "I thought we were going to have some music," she said.
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