" "Then you're heartily welcome, Sir, whoever you are. He still watched her and questioned her. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. The light fell upon the fugitive, who stood before him in an attitude of defence, with the child in his arms. Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. 6. “My word holds,” she said. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. The visitors, when they entered, looked thoroughly intimidated and Everett concealed a grim smile. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. But I am not indisposed to gratify you.
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