Gerald, intent on his trail, ignored it. "When I went through your trunk that first night, I discovered an envelope filled with manuscripts. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. "I had to give in to him.
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