O'Higgins was all that the doctor had
imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. “I do. For I still love her mother. And then I'll pay off old scores. What a mercy that the blow aimed at her by the ruffian,
Wild, though it brought her to the brink of the grave, should have restored her to
reason! Ah! she stirs. He was a civil servant of some
standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious,
nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he
described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather
carefully finished verse. I do not
intend to allow you to forget. *** START: FULL LICENSE ***
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"But, my love," still remonstrated Wood, "you know I'm going to look after the
boys——"
"After Mrs.
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