Wood?" "With pleasure," replied the woollen-draper. Mercifully, the Peters had moved to Rhode Island about six months after the tragedy. At any rate, it would be good to hear him saying the sort of things he did—perhaps now she would grasp them better—with this world-shaking secret brandishing itself about inside her head within a yard of him. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly.
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