She looked about and discovered a door partially hidden by shadow. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. “Lighten up. Wood. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. “I had a faint idea once that things were as you say they are, but the affair of the ring—of the unexpected ring—puzzled me. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt.
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