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" "Wood's daughter, I suppose?" observed the other. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. She rose and attacked Lucy, kicking her with the grafted leg that was too big for her body. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance. ‘I do not believe you. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman.
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