Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. There was a girlfriend who was mentally ill.
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