I would that you were my own. " "Mr. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. I can see that you were somebody, in another day. ' Will that do?" "It will," replied Trenchard. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. A garrison called to arms at dead of night on the sudden approach of the enemy, could not have been more expeditiously, or effectually aroused.
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