"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. He had changed her life dramatically, and she had missed him dreadfully. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. "Oh!" she gasped. But, urged by his wife's cries, who was more anxious for the preservation of her child's life than her own, he snatched up the infant, and made his escape from the back of the premises. ‘Give me that!’ He took his finger away from her neck and made a grab at the handkerchief. ’ ‘We had other matters on hand this morning,’ Roding told him sharply.
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