"At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. “Some day,” she answered. ” “But it is too late,” she declared. You won't refuse me, I'm sure; so no more need be said about the matter. ‘I have said that I will tell you nothing of this soi-disant Valade.
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