" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. I want my freedom. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. The future was not so black. Again he rushed. He was ready to seed his legacy, and you were a pawn to be moved out of the way. "Forgive—forgive me!" "I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs. You don’t know, Anna, but when one is in danger one realizes that the— the other side of the line is Hell.
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