Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. Probably something he had eaten. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. Stanley poured wine. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. I'm always agreeable to the women, bless their kind hearts! Now! slip the purse into my hand. Good riddance. "Arrest!" vociferated Wood.
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