” Anna stepped to the foot of the bed. It was horrible. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood. We’re hard stuff!” Then she went on: “To think that is my father! Oh, my dear! He stood over me like a cliff; the thought of him nearly turned me aside from everything we have done. "Of course," responded the widow, heaving a deep sigh.
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