” She said. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative.
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