Wood's cries: but, regardless of this, he darted along a passage, gained the shop, and passed through an open door into the street. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. “This is not every day. It was then that the young man entered his thought with some permanency: because there was no apparent reason for his joining the tour, since from the beginning he had shown no interest in anything. Blood, they say, won't come out.
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