” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. I have recently made your sister’s acquaintance, and in the course of conversation I understood from her that her Christian name was Anna. Before he could recover from the stunning effects of the blow, Wood possessed himself of the child: and, untying the noose which had been slipped round its throat, had the satisfaction of hearing it cry lustily. ” “It’s these Rascals,” said Mr. Beethoven; he’s the best of them. It’s one of their worst traits, one of their very worst.
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