while we can,’ Kimble managed, and dragged himself onto his knees. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. " "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. CHAPTER XVII. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. “Run in now. But you must tell her. I want him immediately, so you can send Frith with my phaeton if you like. I know all about it. “Won’t you tell me why you have come to England?” she said.
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