“Sir John,” her aunt repeated, with thin emphasis, “is coming to see your sister. I have taken bullets and lived, and even a silver one wouldn’t do much. But things that a girl of sixteen may do in short skirts are not things to be done by a young lady of twenty-one in fancy dress and an opera-cloak, and just as she was coming unaided to an adequate realization of this, she discovered Mr. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back.
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