He must be more or less of an age with this man. Wood's ear, whispered, "secret agents from France—you understand—friends to the cause—hem!" "I see,—persons of rank!" Mr. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. The life with which he had endued these sheets of paper began to beckon imperiously. Before her was a great Gothic portal. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped.
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