Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. ‘He don’t mean you no harm. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. Mr. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently.
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