Such was his fury, that if he had not been restrained by the presence of the two turnkeys, he might perhaps have anticipated the course of justice, by laying violent hands upon his victim. "Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him. And as she was yet waiting for her tea to come she saw this man again. ‘I do not know your Gérard. But you’ve got to lend me forty pounds. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. Beware of him, my son! Beware of him! You know not what villany he is capable of. ’ ‘Not dead, miss. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. .
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