“You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. She had never imagined life was half so sinister as it looked to her in the beginning of these investigations. Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. "Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre.
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