There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. “I’ll buy a new one. Vite, I pray you. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. I will take you for thirty-five shillings a week.
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