” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. ‘I can’t tell you the times I’ve wished for a gun to point at Hilary’s head. From the freshness of the stains, which grew more frequent as they approached the adjoining chamber, it was evident some violence had been recently perpetrated, and the carpenter's own blood froze within his veins as he thought, with a thrill of horror, that, perhaps on this very spot, not many minutes before his arrival, his adopted son might have been inhumanly butchered. A queer nut. " "I wish you did have some faults, Ruth.
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