Wood had been my father, as well as yours. “What nonsense is this? What raving! My dear child, you DO live, you DO exist! You have this home. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind.
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