Something about the girl had suggested an idea. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. ‘That would have grieved Jarvis. “No,” said her brother, conclusively, “it’s not for a parent to go on persuading a child. But this was a vicomte’s sister.
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