Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. Oh, Mr Jarvis paid no mind,’ she added hastily, as if expecting disapproval. So I am already no longer the girl you knew at Morningside Park. He'll be able to help us a little now. It may be well, therefore, before proceeding farther, to describe it more minutely.
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