" "A child!" thought Wood; it must be the fugitive Darrell. I've always been more or less music-mad. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. You’re such a strange girl. "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. ’ She shuddered, throwing her hands over her face.
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