" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. It was still possible the child might be in safety. Her aunt went out of the room with dignity and a rustle, and up-stairs to the fastness of her own room.
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