Come along, master. I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. “I can’t keep away from you. "Hell-hounds!" he cried; "release me!" At the same moment, Quilt Arnold rushed forward with such haste, that, stumbling over William Morgan, he precipitated him into the grave.
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