” Part 9 She was sitting brooding over her fire about ten o’clock that night when a sealed and registered envelope was brought up to her. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back. She fixed her eyes upon it and ran, keeping always as far as possible in the shadow of the hedge, gazing fearfully every now and then down along the valley for the white smoke of the train. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street.
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