Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock. “I’ve brought you up some dinner, Vee,” she said. " "It is," answered Wood. My foster mother, Sheila, insists that I go to St. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. He stared at the woman depicted thereon for a long moment, awe in his head. "I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door.
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