And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. Wood again made his appearance in a more composed frame of mind, and, at his daughter's earnest solicitation, was induced to partake of some refreshment. She put her head out of the window. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. " "Nonsense!" "Something's wrong.
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