“I remember hearing something about it. She saw a pole-chair; that would be this Mr. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. ‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay. We all love you dearly. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast.
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