The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. 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. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. “I must read him when I come out. ’ ‘Assuredly there are many escaping from France at this time.
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